The Stolen Child
by Merlin Missy
Summary: Wayne Manor is not a place where people come to heal.  It is a place, at best, where people come to find others with whom they can heal.  PostRotJ, see story for other spoiler information.
1. Chapter 1

The Stolen Child (1/4)  
a Justice League story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters and situations are owned by DC Comics and Warner Brothers.

Summary: Wayne Manor is not a place people come to heal; it is a place, at best, where people come to find others with whom they _can_ heal.

Spoilers: Up through JLU "Epilogue" and Batman Beyond "Return of the Joker." Also includes minor casting spoiler for upcoming season of JLU.

Author's Notes: With greatest thanks to: **xffan2000**, for talking me into it in the first place; **amilyn** and **evillittletwit**, for betaing and audiencing; and most especially **dotsomething**, without whose edits, suggestions, and exuberance, this tale never would have seen the light of day. This is not specifically in continuity with anything else I've written, but does draw from other ideas I've thrown around already. Think of the story as a "might have been" that will be seriously jossed as soon as new episodes air.

* * *

Part One

* * *

Were Bruce not privately certain that he'd gone mad many years ago, the current holding-pattern of his life would indicate a steady decline into calm insanity.

He wore the Bruce Wayne mask today and did his penance: another trip to Gotham's tiny Social Services office; another glad hand and smile for Ms. Fowler, the tired-faced administrator; another personal offer from the Wayne Foundation, today a gift of five hundred LifePrint tests to help close one of too many gaps in the city's foster care system.

"Morning, Mr. Wayne!" chirped Fowler's assistant. Denise had only worked here for about three months, and she was still thrilled to be doing something good for kids. Bruce suspected she had another three or four months at most before she wised up or cracked.

Instead of saying so, he put on a professional but charming smile. "Good morning, Denise. Is that a new haircut? It looks good on you."

She grinned. "Thanks. You're the first one to notice." She touched the back of her hair absently. "Ms. Fowler will be with you in just a minute."

"Thanks, Denise." He took a seat in one of the four chairs lining the wall and examined his surroundings as he always did. The walls had been painted a year ago, but the paint was already cracked in places. A tackboard across from him featured photos of children, smiling, frowning, aping at the camera. Crayoned and markered pictures picked out places all along the wall. He heard a child's voice from a near room; the building was not just the office, but also the interim home for children awaiting placement into foster homes.

Tim had stayed here briefly while Bruce had worked out the guardianship paperwork with Ms. Fowler's predecessor, five years and twenty lifetimes ago.

There was not enough penance in the world, sometimes.

Fowler's door opened. "Mr. Wayne? Please come in." He followed Fowler into her office.

The meeting was short, as all their meetings were. Bruce handed over the papers his accountants had prepared, allowed Fowler to read and sign them one at a time. Had this been any other charity, he'd probably have let someone else courier these over, but again, this place was different.

"How is he?"

"Hm?" He noticed that she'd finished signing the last paper and was staring at him expectantly. "Oh. He's ... " He swallowed. "He's getting better."

"Good," Fowler said, and there was a great depth of sympathy in her eyes.

They'd kept Robin's abduction a secret to the world, but Tim Drake had gone missing too and he'd come back damaged. Bruce had told Social Services and the rest as much of the truth as he could, that Tim had been kidnapped by a madman who hadn't demanded ransom, that Bruce had been forbidden to go to the authorities, that Batman and Batgirl had saved him.

Tim was returning to them stepwise, like a puzzle whose pieces had been scattered at sea, and it had to be enough because there was nothing else.

"I'll walk you out," said Fowler after Bruce put the paperwork back in his briefcase.

Bruce nodded and let her lead him out past Denise's desk, out through the narrow hallway, out ...

A door flew open. "Ms. Fowler, could we get your help for a minute?" asked the harried woman inside. Past her, he saw two other adults trying and failing to hold onto a small boy, no more than six or seven.

Fowler glanced at Bruce. "Sorry, Mr. Wayne." The child stopped struggling immediately and stared at him.

"Of course," he said smoothly.

Fowler turned her attention back to the boy. "Rex, you have to calm down. We're not here to hurt you. The doctor just needs to take a look at your back again."

Bruce believed in coincidences under certain circumstances. This was not one of them. As Fowler went to close the door, he put his hand in the way and took a better look at the child, who'd begun tugging away from his captors again.

Short black hair, and as the kid moved, Bruce saw eyes too green to be quite human. He'd have his mother's eyes in the future, Bruce knew, and his father's features, and this was all wrong.

_What the hell!_ His mind raced. _Six or seven, but we don't know how her species ages._

"Ms. Fowler?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, but you'll have to leave."

"I know this boy." _I will, anyway._

"Excuse me?"

"I know his parents. Rex, are you okay?" Bruce went to one knee to be at the boy's eye level. One last pull, and Rex was free. The child looked at him warily for a second, and then flew into his arms with what Bruce somehow knew was a very calculated yelp of glee.

"I'm okay," he said, dropping the hug after a few seconds. He rubbed his eyes. "Can I go home with you?"

Bruce opened and shut his jaw quickly. "Ms. Fowler, may I have a few minutes alone with him? Please?"

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed, and Bruce knew the reason. Always there had been the rumors surrounding him, about the two young boys he'd taken into his home.

"Just two minutes," he requested again. "I haven't seen his parents in a long time. He'll talk to me. Won't you, Rex?"

Rex nodded, wide-eyed and grinning.

"Fine. My office. Two minutes."

He took the boy's cool hand in his own, led him past a confused Denise, and into Fowler's small office.

Too many questions preyed on his mind at once. "I know who you are, and you know who I am," he started.

"Yeah." Away from the others, the boy had dropped the cute face and wore instead a suspicious, guarded expression.

"Where are your parents?" _Other than at the Watchtower?_

"They ... It was a month ago," Rex said, looking away.

"I saw your mother yesterday." _On the news._ "She was fine."

"No, you saw my mother's counterpart in this universe," he replied in a whisper, eyes on the door.

The shock went through him like cold lightning, but he didn't allow it to show in his face or voice as he mouthed, "Justice Lords?"

Rex nodded again.

Bruce rubbed his face. "How did you get here?"

"The other you sent me. I think you're probably dead now. Him, I mean." Bruce was unsurprised. "He said I was your responsibility now."

_I'll bet he did._ Bruce's counterpart had exactly the same issues Bruce did. He would know Bruce could not possibly turn down a chance to help an orphaned little boy.

"All right. I'm going to talk with Ms. Fowler and see if you can come with me. We'll sort out what to do after that."

"Okay." They opened the door to find Fowler fuming quietly on the other side.

"I've been out of touch with Rex's parents," Bruce said. "There was an accident a month ago and he's been on his own since."

"That's what he told us when he was brought in yesterday by the police."

"I'd like him to come home with me."

"Mr. Wayne, I assure you we appreciate all you've done for us, but you're no longer in our files as a foster parent. This boy needs to be placed in a home."

"You won't place him for a few days, surely? Could he stay with me until then?" He put on a pleading face, careful not to be _too_ desperate. "It's the least I can do for the memory of my friends." Rex squeezed his hand tightly and stayed silent.

"Besides, I think it might be good for Tim to have another child around," he lied.

"Please?" Rex asked. "I've known Mr. Wayne since I was a baby."

"All right," she said. "Mr. Wayne, you'll need to fill out the papers for temporary guardianship. Rex, get your things while I talk to Mr. Wayne."

"Yay!" The child gave Bruce's leg a quick hug, then scampered away to gather whatever possessions he had elsewhere in the building.

"Thank you," Bruce said. "I owe you one."

"Just know what you're getting into," she warned. "He's underfed, and he's got obvious signs of abuse."

"What do you mean?"

"Scars, bad ones, on his back. He says it was a dog attack but I think he's lying. He's got other scars that don't look like normal wear and tear, either."

"I see."

"He's had a basic check-up. We were trying to get a doctor to examine the scars."

"I'll have Alfred make a doctor's appointment for him immediately."

"A session with whatever psychologist you have working with Tim might not be a bad idea." She brought out a small stack of papers from the filing cabinet behind her desk.

"I'll see what we can do." Bruce started to sign.

Half an hour later, Rex was waving good-bye to a still unimpressed Ms. Fowler as they climbed into the back of the Rolls. Alfred had not asked any questions yet, for which Bruce was grateful.

"Thank you again," Bruce said to the woman. "We'll take good care of him. Let me know as soon as you know when he'll be placed."

"Trust me, I will," she said, and she went back inside.

Alfred held the door open for him. "Sir."

"I'll explain in the car," Bruce said, and climbed in.

To an empty back seat. "Rex?"

Alfred looked around. "Where on Earth did he go?"

Bruce ducked his head under the seats, then looked in both directions down the street, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. With a sudden bad feeling, he checked his pocket and discovered his wallet was similarly missing.

"Dammit." Bruce got into the car.

"Sir?"

"Home, Alfred. I need a change of clothes and the other car."

"Of course, sir. Might I inquire, who is the lad?"

"At this point, I'm not entirely sure I know."

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Barbara fussed at him as they followed the blip on the tracking monitor. "You go to donate something to Social Services and almost come home with the son of your friends from an alternate universe. You can't have a normal day, can you?"

"Today's not over yet."

"Of course." She stayed quiet until they reached the warehouse. He parked the Batmobile around the block so as not to alert Rex.

"I'm going in," she told him, as he went to unbuckle.

"He knows me."

"Then he probably knows me too, and I'm not as scary as you are."

"Fine." They got out of the car together. "But be careful."

"Always am." She went into the building, clicking on her earbud as she did. Bruce listened to her over the line. "Dark in here," she whispered.

"Abandoned warehouses usually are."

"Looks like a nest over here. Um, sorry." He smirked at her comment; he could use a bad joke right now.

"Just get the boy and bring him out here."

He heard a skirmish, a shout, and he readied himself to go in anyway, when Barbara came back on the line: "Um, Batman? _Which_ boy?"

* * *

Alfred loved his employer unconditionally. He had loved him as a small child, raised him as he might his own son, and watched with pride and concern as Bruce's life work had gradually developed into something both frightening and just. When Bruce had grown and then brought other broken little boys into the Manor, Alfred had loved them too, had fretted after them like lost kittens.

It was not his job; it was, he believed, his calling.

So when Master Bruce had informed him an unexpected guest would be joining them for a few days, Alfred had simply nodded, assuming an explanation would be forthcoming when time allowed. When Master Bruce and Miss Gordon went to retrieve the boy, Alfred simply aired another of the Manor's many bedrooms, retrieved some of Master Timothy's smallest clothes from storage, and waited for the three of them to come home.

He was only mildly disconcerted to discover that four of them had returned instead.

Master Bruce, still in his nocturnal business attire, ushered the children up through the clock. Alfred had seen the older boy briefly, but the younger was a shock: perhaps four years old, dark where the other was pale, with two grey wings pulled against his small back. Angelically beautiful. The older boy held one of his small hands; the other thumb was planted in his mouth.

"Sir?"

"Alfred, these are our guests. You remember Rex. This is Carter." The smaller child ducked his head shyly behind his brother.

"Yes, sir. How very nice to meet you, young sirs. Sir, I've aired out the room next to Master Timothy's and found some clothing. Would you like me to draw a bath for our guests?"

"Good idea," said Miss Gordon, wrinkling her nose at the children. "How long were you two living in that warehouse?"

"A month," said Rex. "They made me take a shower at the home yesterday."

Alfred replied, "A fact which will not preclude another bathing experience." He took the children from Bruce's custody and herded them to the bathroom adjoining their new bedroom, where he quickly filled the tub with hot water and bubbles.

He turned to the boys. "This would be easier were you to undress."

"Could we have some privacy?" asked Rex gravely.

Alfred nodded. "I'll leave clothing on the bed."

He shut the door behind himself, hearing as he did Carter's quiet "Thank you."

He waited outside the bathroom door for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of splashing and Rex giving Carter orders to scrub. Alfred had raised three boys who were effectively only children. He had trouble imagining any of his other charges giggling as their older brothers poured water over their heads.

He found it strangely relaxing to know without a doubt that he would find bath water and bubbles all over a floor again.

Alfred spread out one set of pajamas for Rex and took the smallest pair with him to his own room. He had scissors, needle and thread, and he suspected he could modify the pajama top for Carter's wings before the boys had discovered the water jets embedded in the tub.

* * *

Babs tapped on Tim's door.

"Who is it?"

"Barbara. Can I come in?"

"Okay." She opened the door carefully, making sure Tim hadn't set one of his little "games" over the door frame again. He'd only started trapping the doorway over the past couple of weeks. His shrink said the behavior meant they were making progress. Babs suspected the shrink didn't get how deadly Tim could be when he put his mind to it.

He was bent over his desk.

"Hey."

"Hey," he responded, not looking up from whatever he was writing. "Alfred said you guys were bringing home a new kid. Took you years to replace Dick."

"This isn't ... Tim, it's not like that."

"Right."

"Bruce said they're Lantern and Hawkgirl's kids. There was a time travel thing. And possibly dimensional travel. I wasn't paying close attention."

He looked up. "'Kids?'"

"Yeah. Alfred's busy giving them a bath, so I just ordered some pizza. Want to come down and meet them when it gets here?"

Something in his eyes shuttered closed. "No. Alfred made me dinner already. I'm busy now." And he went back to whatever it was he was doing.

"Tim?" He ignored her until she finally left the room.

That hadn't been as bad as she'd expected. She never knew what state Tim would be in, if he would be inside his head completely, or seemingly perfectly sane, or carving small patterns into his flesh until Bruce and Alfred wrestled him to the ground and pulled the knife away.

Babs thought privately that Tim needed more care than the rest of them could possibly provide, but Bruce insisted he stay here. "Home," he'd said, and that was that.

She went into the bedroom she used as her own on the nights she stayed over, sat down on what was becoming her bed. Bruce had gone back to the Cave to contact his former associates from the League. Belatedly, she thought she should order more pizza, especially if Flash was coming.

* * *

Alfred cracked the bedroom door open to find the children dressed in their overlarge pajamas. He made a mental note to purchase new clothes in the morning. Alfred went into the bathroom to retrieve the clothing left piled on the sopping floor.

Rex dashed in. "I'll get those," he said, grabbing for the wet pile before Alfred could gather them.

"Young sir, please allow me. We'll be disposing of these." _In the incinerator._

"No!" Rex clutched the wet clothes against his formerly dry chest. Alfred tried not to sigh. Master Dick had been much the same when he'd first arrived.

"Tomorrow we will find you both new clothes to wear. I promise."

"No," said Rex again, hugging the clothes tighter. Alfred knew he would have to find another pajama top for the boy to sleep in, and possibly new bottoms if he continued dripping.

"I apologize for my mistake, young sir. I'll be laundering the clothing tonight, then. Do you prefer fabric softener?"

The child held the clothes against him, staring at Alfred, then handed them over soberly. Alfred held them at arm's length. "Can I have my t-shirt back tonight?"

"Of course, sir. If you and your brother will remain here, I'll begin these immediately."

"Okay."

Alfred admonished the boys to be good as they explored their new room. He closed the door behind him and took the clothes down to the laundry room, where a load of Master Timothy's clothes were already on pre-soak. He tossed the bundle into the washer. A grey film settled through the water almost immediately. Alfred sighed again — he suspected he'd be doing that quite a lot during the duration of their guests' stay — and added more soap as he turned on the machine.

The clothes began to separate, and something caught his eye. He fished out a t-shirt. More grey like the rest, far too large for a little boy, but he read under the grime: "USMC."

Alfred bit his lip, then changed the washing cycle from "Heavy" to "Delicate."

* * *

Alfred brought the boys downstairs just as the doorbell rang. Babs thought it might be the Leaguers, then remembered Bruce always asked them to come in the back entrance if they were in costume. Sure enough, only the delivery boy was on the other side of the door, and despite it being the home of a billionaire, Babs found herself paying for dinner. Thank goodness she'd ditched the cape and cowl in her room.

"Thanks," the guy said, eyeing his tip.

"Sorry," she said as she grabbed the boxes. "Bruce's wallet was stolen earlier."

"Uh huh." _Great. Next time we order from this place, there's gonna be boogers on it. Just watch._

Cursing the unwieldy boxes, Babs brought them into the dining room, where Alfred was trying to get the kids into chairs. Carter wanted to look at everything, peering closely at valuable trinkets.

"Get away from there," said Rex curtly, and his brother complied. "Now sit down."

"Okay." The boy climbed into one of Bruce's fine chairs, then squirmed, trying to find a comfortable spot for his wings. Babs hid her smile as she opened the boxes.

"I asked Tim to come down," she said casually.

"I assume he declined," said Alfred, going to the concealed panel on the wall which would send a signal to the Batcave. Bruce would come up, or he would not. _It'd be just like him to bring a couple of kids home and assume Alfred was going to watch them._

As though he were also assuming that very thing, Alfred began to place pizza slices on plates for the children. Rex dug into his like a starving boy, and Babs thought that wasn't inaccurate. On the ride home, he'd told them he was caught by the police for stealing food from a grocery store, and in the place the kids had been living, she'd seen barely any signs of food-related trash.

Carter poked at his pizza.

"Is there something wrong?" Alfred asked, quietly demurring from taking pizza as well.

"No," Carter said.

Rex put his own pizza down. "I forgot. He doesn't like eating in front of people. Can we take this up to our room?"

"I'm afraid not," said Alfred, just as Bruce entered the dining room. "Meals should be taken in the dining room or the kitchen. Or," he said with a forbidding glance to Bruce, "on _rare_ occasions, the Cave."

_Tim eats in his room,_ Babs thought but didn't say. Tim did everything in his room.

"What's wrong, Carter?" Bruce asked. Out of costume, and in his almost human mode, Babs had to admit he was a lot less imposing.

"Nothing," said the child in a small voice. "I'm not hungry."

"I'll make sure he eats it all," said Rex. "Please?"

"Sir."

Bruce raised a hand. "Alfred, if the biggest problem these two give us is that they want to eat in their room, we're going to be lucky. Go ahead. But I want you to promise me something." Both boys stood at attention. "Promise me that you will not try to run away while you're with us. I don't want to have to be chasing you down. You're safe here. Do you understand?" Two nods. "I need your word on this."

"Okay," said Rex, and Carter looked at him and nodded. "No running away. We'll stay. Can we go eat now?"

"I expect clean plates," said Alfred, as Rex carefully carried their dinners out and up the stairs. "Sir, if they drop crumbs, there will be ants."

"I'll call an exterminator."

* * *

Wally was the first to arrive, except for Bats but hey, he lived there, and dude, someone had already ordered pizza. Wally had eaten three slices before he thought to ask if he could have some, and Batgirl just rolled her eyes at him. She had either already eaten or wasn't having any.

The Batclan were all okay, really, once you got past the crazy.

"So what's this about?" he asked around slice number five.

"I'm sure he'll tell you all at the same time," she said, and got up and left. He watched her go, taking a nice look at the little wiggle she had when she walked. She was in her costume, which was weird, but Bats had said to come in costume, which Wally had figured out a long time ago meant: "We're discussing business."

He heard the clock swing open again and heard Batgirl say a sleepy good-night to someone. Then Superman came into the dining room and Wally waved at him with pizza. "Sausage?"

"Sure," said Supes and put it on a plate. Then he took a napkin and unfolded it onto his lap.

"How's Lois?"

"Good. Haven't seen you around the Metro Tower lately."

"Been busy." And that was really the same for all of them, he knew. Handful of Watchtowers, lot of heroes, and the seven of them hadn't been in the same room for at least a year.

"Think Diana will show?" Wally asked. He zipped into the kitchen, found the 'fridge and brought back sodas for himself and Superman.

"I have no idea," Superman said, as the clock clicked open again. J'onn and Shayera ducked into the room.

"Got here as soon as we could," Shayera said, taking a seat, then wiggling to try and fit her wings against the back. "Is this for everybody?"

"Probably," said Superman.

"Good," said J'onn. "It was a long shift." J'onn sniffed at the pizza and took two pieces, which he very nearly vacuumed down. Someday Wally really really wanted to have a three-way eating contest with Supes and J'onn. They could totally sell tickets.

"Princess coming?" asked Shayera.

"As far as we know," said Superman. The clock opened again. The four of them turned expectantly toward the door.

Diana looked tired, and Wally remembered she'd been at the Paris embassy all week. She'd probably been asleep. "Hi," she said around a yawn, and sat at the table. Wally took pity on her first and zipped into the kitchen for more sodas.

Diana refused pizza, which was probably for the best. Instead, she and Shayera started chatting with a forced cheerfulness. They'd been working on the "getting along" thing again. Wally wondered which one was gonna break first.

The clock opened again, and Bats and John came into the dining room together. "Off-world," John explained simply.

"Follow me," said Bats, "and be quiet."

J'onn's eyes glowed red the way they did when he was mindreading, and then his face went blank. Well, not Question-blank, but damned if Wally could figure out what was going on in his head as he asked, "Do you think this is wise?"

"Yes," said Batman, and they followed him upstairs. All the doors were closed, and he led them to one that looked like all the rest, placing a gloved finger to his lips. He cracked open the door. Wally craned his neck around to see what was inside.

Bed, _big_ bed, blankets, what looked like a kid, no, two kids huddled together asleep. One of them rolled over and Wally saw the wings.

"What the hell?" asked Shayera in a low, dangerous voice.

Batman said nothing, just closed the door and stalked back down the stairs. They had little choice but to follow him back to the dining room, where suddenly the pizza didn't look so good.

Wally flung himself into a chair, hearing it creak as he did. The rest sat as they would. Everyone was staring at either Bats or Shayera.

"Long story made very short," said Batman. "The Justice Lords sent us a couple of presents."

"Shit," said Wally, without thinking.

John's head looked like it was on hinges the way it moved. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Guess what the older boy's name is."

"Huh?" Wally had no idea what he was talking about, but John swore. _Well, that's a stupid name for a kid._ He shot a glance to Shayera, who was tight-lipped and quiet in her seat.

"What happened?" asked Superman. Good ol' Superman, asking the questions Wally couldn't remember to ask all by himself.

"According to Rex," _One of them's named Rex?_ "their parents are dead, as are most of our counterparts. Their father died several months ago. Their mother died last month. Their Batman sent them through the portal to us. Rex didn't like that plan, and was taking care of Carter until yesterday, when he was picked up and sent to Social Services."

"Carter?" asked Shayera and John at the same time. Wally was very good and swallowed instead of laughing 'cause John would've killed him. _And it's not like it's my fault Shayera's dating the guy._

"I didn't ask," said Bats in what Wally realized was a very tactful manner.

"J'onn," said Supes, "can you scan them to verify their story?" He turned to Batman. "If we're dealing with the Justice Lords, we need to know."

J'onn's eyes glowed. "I cannot read anything from either child."

Diana said, "That would make them Thanagarian, then." Shayera scowled at her. _So much for playing nice._

"What's the plan for the kids?" asked John.

Shayera asked, "When are we sending them back?"

"We're not," said Bats. "They don't have a home to return to, and we don't have a way of sending them there if they did. From what Rex has told me, the Justice Lords have been on the run ever since we sent them back without their powers. Rex might be able to blend in with the population at large, but Carter absolutely couldn't."

"Carter's the one with the wings?" asked Wally, and Batman nodded. "That's true here too, then."

"Here he won't be shot on sight," said Bats.

John shivered, as Shayera muttered, "Probably."

"All right," John said. "They're staying here and Carter," there was just a tiny hitch when he said that, "needs to stay out of sight. Fine. I'll take them to the Metropolis embassy. Everyone there is vetted; we can explain that this is another thing nobody shares."

"Which would be a good solution except that Rex is now in the foster care system, pending relocation to a foster family."

"You're not his guardian?" asked Diana.

"I told them I knew his parents. I have custody until they find a home, and I'm no longer on the list of suitable homes."

Wally didn't look at him, tried to look at the pizza boxes. Kara had spilled about what had happened to Robin, and just enough had become public knowledge.

"We have a few days to figure out what to do with them and how. Then things get complicated. One of the steps in placing a child is taking identification information for later: fingerprints, photo, and DNA sample."

"You're kidding," said John.

"There've been some missing children cases," said Batman. "And the Wayne Foundation already donated the kits."

"Oops," said Wally.

"They've got a long list of kids they need to sample. He probably won't get tested for a few weeks, especially if I can talk the agency into sending the new foster parents here directly instead of meeting them at the office."

"He'll run away," said John. "And he'll get lost in the system."

"Not from here," Batman replied. "I can't risk more questions now. They'd search the property and they would find the Batcave."

"What about Carter?" asked Diana, oblivious to John and Shayera's discomfort.

"He's easier, isn't he?" replied Superman. "How many people know about him?"

"Just the people in this room, and my household."

"So we can take him to the Metro Tower now."

"You're not taking him anywhere," said a voice from the doorway. Wally turned, saw a fierce-looking little boy.

Bruce glided to his feet. "Rex, this isn't the best time. We need to do this gradually. Your parents ... "

"My parents are dead," said the child. _Oh wow, he's got his mom's eyes,_ Wally thought. The boy looked at John, then Shayera. "I know who _they_ are."

John put on a smile for the kid. "Hi." Shayera continued to stare at him and didn't say anything.

"Come in," said Batman. "You have the right to be in on this discussion. Is Carter still asleep?"

Rex nodded and took a seat at the table. "You can't take him away from me."

John said, "Son, we're trying to get him to where he'll be safe."

"Don't call me that," said Rex, and he turned back to Batman. "I take care of him. He needs me. He has to stay with me."

"Nothing will happen tonight," said Diana. "We're simply discussing options."

"Carter stays with me," Rex said. "We don't need anyone." Wally was very _very_ good and didn't look at Shayera, who'd said the same thing so many times when he'd first met her that he practically had it engraved on his brain.

"Hey, how old are you?" Wally asked.

"I'll be eight," said Rex, and Bats twitched. Bats _never_ twitched. "Carter's four."

_Eight?_ John asked, "You were around when we ... when your parents came through to our universe?"

Rex's eyes shifted. "Kind of."

"_When_ will you be eight?" asked Wally, who'd been around kids a lot more than the rest of the crew.

"In a year. And a half. Is there more pizza?"

Wally got the kid a slice, and Rex devoured it with enthusiasm while the rest of them shared looks over his head.

"What are you going to do with us?" he asked after wiping the last bits of sauce from his mouth.

"We haven't decided yet," said Shayera. It was the first thing she'd said to him.

He nodded at her. "Okay. But we get to decide with you."

"That's fair," said Batman.

"We're going to have to decide soon. They don't know about Carter, so they don't have to worry about finding a home for two of us. I can pass for human and I can pass for white. I'm going to be really easy to place."

"We'll keep that in mind," said John.

Batman said, "You should get back to bed."

"Yeah. Carter might get scared if I'm not there."

"I'll take you up," said John, and Rex backed away warily. _Mayday._

"I'll do it," said Wally. "C'mon, kid. I'll race you." He led the boy upstairs, going as slow as he possibly could while running, and still got there first. He opened the door. "Hey, where'd Carter go?"

"Huh?" said Rex, and then Carter toddled out of the bathroom. Wally got a good look at him as he rubbed his eyes.

"Who're you?" he asked, climbing into bed.

"Uncle Wally," he said without thinking, and Rex scowled as he walked past Wally into the room.

"Okay," said Carter, eyes already closed. "'Night, Uncle Wally."

"Good night, kiddo," he said, and closed the door as soon as Rex was under the sheets.

He zipped back downstairs. "Did I miss anything?" Diana and Shayera were glaring at each other. _I was gone less than two minutes!_

"No, they're not," said Shayera, in her "going to get the mace out any second" voice.

"They think they are," said Diana.

"Rex obviously doesn't. No reason to think the other one will either."

"You _are_ the only one of their species on this planet," said J'onn.

"And this makes me an expert?" Shayera said.

"Excuse me," John said, "but they're half human. They'll live with me. It's settled."

"Mari's going to love that," Shayera said. "You were planning on asking her first, weren't you?"

"I'll tell her tomorrow." _And this, children, is why we don't date our coworkers ever. Except for when we do. Reminder to self: ask Supes before you leave if he's telling Kara about this._

"So no, you're not asking your fiancee if she wants two children in her life all of a sudden."

Batman interrupted, "They're not going anywhere until we have a plan in place to get Rex out of the system without landing ourselves in prison. In the meantime, I want all of you to make time to be around here over the next few days. I think it would be helpful for them to have some familiar faces nearby."

"I don't," said J'onn. "They have suffered terrible losses recently. I believe keeping them in close proximity to people who resemble those they lost, who are indeed other versions of the people they lost, will only delay their grieving process and may in fact damage them further."

"What he said," Shayera said, standing up. "We're bad for them. Call me when you need something broken." She swept towards the doorway.

"No," said Batman, and because he was Batman, Shayera stopped and waited. "You need to be here. And you're going to be here. Not one person in this room knows how to take care of a pair of wings except you. No one else can teach someone how to fly with wings. We're isolated enough that you can do it on the property without being seen."

There was a brief but intense staring contest. Shayera didn't have a chance.

"Fine," she said. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Good," said Batman, and they watched her leave. "The rest of you should go home, too. Think about what we can do. I've got a patrol to keep."

J'onn said, "If you can get me copies of the documents used by your city, I might be able to simulate them."

Bats nodded. "I'll get them to you."

Superman and Diana followed J'onn out, and Wally lingered for a second to grab another piece of pizza to tide himself over.

John went to Batman's side, "I could stay."

"Go home, Lantern. Get some sleep. Talk to Vixen. Bring her here to meet the boys tomorrow."

John nodded. "Maybe I could just check in on them."

"Not tonight," Batman said with finality. GL scowled. "I think J'onn's wrong. I think having you around is exactly what they need. But he _is_ right that they've been through a great deal. They're going to need time."

"But it's Rex," he said. "We _saw_ him. We know how this turns out."

"We don't know how anything turns out. We just have to guess along with everyone else."

"Anybody want this last slice?" Wally asked, and they both stared at him. He realized they'd forgotten he was still there. He took the pizza and ate it quickly. "Okay, so I'll see you guys tomorrow."

They didn't say another word until he was out of the room.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

The Stolen Child (2/4)  
a Justice League story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-13

* * *

Part Two

* * *

John checked his watch. Mari would be getting off shift in five minutes. They hadn't made plans to spend the day together, but he suspected she'd be by regardless.

He still wasn't sure how he was going to tell her, _what_ he was going to tell her.

_"Hon, I know we haven't really talked about kids."_

"Mari, remember when I told you Bruce and I went into the future, and I said I couldn't tell anyone what we saw?"

"You know, I've always thought you'd make a great mom."

He'd have to break it to her slowly, let her get used to the idea. From the moment he'd seen them sleeping, hell, from the moment he'd come back from the future trip knowing what was to be, he'd known he would love them. Rex, certainly, and already he was okay with the name Carter for the younger boy. His younger boy. _Have to ask about that._

The clock on the wall, always a little faster than his watch, told him Mari's shift was over, that she'd probably be beaming to the Detroit location any time now. She might call, but she probably wouldn't.

She'd be put out at first, confused certainly. But he was sure, once she got a good look at them, that she'd like them just as much as he already did. She liked kids.

Shayera ...

No. He wasn't going to think about Shayera right now. She was his past. If Rex was here, maybe she wasn't even the future he thought she might be. She'd obviously freaked out last night; he felt a little bad about that. He'd had warning but he'd never told her what he'd seen. She'd been scared, and the way she always dealt with being scared was by getting belligerent. She'd come around eventually. She'd start spending time with the kids, and she'd see how cool they were, and she'd ...

John realized he was thinking about her anyway.

There was a knock on his door. "Hold on," he said, and opened the door for Mari before she had to dig out her key.

"Morning," she said, tiptoeing up to kiss him just at the edge of his mouth.

"Morning, yourself," he said. "How was work?"

"Quiet. No major disasters, only one minor earthquake in Japan. Reddy and Dove handled it."

"Good." _Now's the time, man. Tell her, let her hear it from you._ "So ... "

"What's for breakfast?"

"I was thinking Bob's Pancake House." _Tell her._

She smiled. "Sounds good. Let me change and freshen up."

_Tell her._

He'd tell her over breakfast. He would.

* * *

Tim woke abruptly. His sheets were drenched in sweat, his heart raced, and he was almost positive he'd been screaming. Sometimes his nightmares were different. Last night's had not been.

Mad laughter inside his head. Burning pain on his hands and arms, on his legs, on his groin. Struggling against bonds he couldn't break or pick or untie.

Tim closed his eyes, trying to force the images away. He focused on the breathing techniques Bruce had taught him once upon a time, and gradually, the dream left him to lurk in the back of his mind with the rest of the nightmares.

He opened his eyes again. Sunlight poured through the cracks in his curtains. The angle of the light — hitting the handle of the second drawer on his dresser — told him he'd slept late again

He threw off the last tangle of blankets clinging to the bed, sat up, rubbed his head. Atop his dresser, Alfred had left clothes neatly folded and had removed his clothes from the previous day. Tim knew otherwise he'd stay in the same clothes day in and day out, and Alfred knew it too. He wasn't sure if Bruce knew, and he decided he didn't care.

Tim focused on the feel of the cloth on his hands as he dressed. His scars had almost completely faded, except for the few he'd keep the rest of his life. His gaze drifted to the longest one, running the length of his leg. Then hurriedly, he tugged on his jeans to hide it away.

He sat at his desk and looked at what he'd written the night before. Trash, all of it, he decided, and he spent a pleasant several minutes shredding the papers by hand before he dropped the tiny bits into his trash can.

Half of the word "replaced" stuck to his palm, and it took three tries to get the paper off and into the trash with the rest.

Bruce had brought home a new Robin. _Two_ new Robins.

He'd watched through his keyhole as Alfred had led them up to bed last night. In the brief glimpse, he'd memorized each curve in their young faces, each feather in the smaller child's wings. He knew he should stop them at the top of the staircase, grab them, shake them until they listened to him: get away from here, run away while you still can.

He'd forced himself, eventually, away from the door and back to his bed, forced himself to try to sleep. Instead he'd lain awake, listening for the quiet creak of the downstairs clock as Bruce finally came in for the night.

Tim used the toilet, washed his hands, tried not to look at the empty pane where his mirror used to be. It had been six months since he'd broken it, since he'd given himself new scars on his palms and wrists, and he doubted it would be replaced as long as he lived here.

He should go downstairs. He should eat breakfast. He should make a proper introduction to the Manor's new residents.

He sat at his desk, pulled out a new sheet of paper, and began to write.

Half an hour later, he heard a noise at his door. Five minutes after that, he opened the door just enough to grab the tray, bring the eggs and bacon and juice (in a plastic cup) inside. Wide enough, too, to see another tray outside the next door over.

Tim never smiled, not now, not yet, but his lips twitched in a smile-memory. It was nice to know he wasn't the only crazy one in the house.

* * *

Shayera came in through the Batcave. On the rare occasions she visited Bruce, she came this way, each time finding it heartening that he'd neither sealed this entrance nor booby-trapped it with her in mind. Had their positions been reversed, and he the traitorous invader to her home, she could not say she'd do the same.

The Cave was empty, which was expected. It was early enough in the day that Bruce would be pretending to sleep off a night of debauchery, as he really slept off a night of hard crimefighting.

He hadn't been even a part-time League member this past year. They kept tabs on him anyway. She guessed he was allowing them to do so, couldn't imagine the gentle surveillance _could_ continue without his permission.

She opened the clock, stepped out, looked around.

"Hello?"

"Hello, miss," said Alfred, appearing from nowhere. She made an effort not to jump. _Guess Batman had to learn it from somewhere._

"Good morning, Alfred," she said as pleasantly as she could. "How are ... " She broke off, then stumbled through a careful: "you?"

"I'm well, thank you for asking. The lads are also well."

"Yes," she said, not knowing what else _to_ say.

"If you'd like, I can take you up to their room now."

"No rush," she said too fast. She saw the look cross his face: confusion, merging into distaste, both immediately replaced with a carefully blank expression.

"Miss?"

"Is Bruce awake?"

"No, miss. I can wake him if you desire."

"No. Don't bother. I was just curious." She stared out the window, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"If you would prefer to wait here, I can bring the children down to meet you."

"Alfred, I'd prefer I wasn't here at all. Your boss ordered me to show up, and I'm not sure why I listened."

"Yes, miss. But you are here, as are they. Excuse me." He turned around, headed to the stairs.

Mentally, Shayera cursed. Alfred had always been kind to her, something especially precious during those first few days after the invasion when everyone had hated her, including herself. Now he would be as cold to her as she was to these ...

"Oh dear," said Alfred, walking hurriedly in the other direction. "They appear to be giving themselves a tour."

"Is that safe?"

"Not here," he said, poking his head under couches and chairs. Shayera thought better of it, then looked behind the curtains anyway. "Boys!" shouted Alfred. "Come down here this instant!"

There was no answer at first. A door upstairs creaked open. Shayera stepped out into the hallway, saw a face peering out, too tall to be one of her ... one of the boys. Robin. Tim. "Hi," she said, and he closed the door.

Not for the first time, Shayera wondered if she were the sanest person present in Wayne Manor.

"Got you!" Alfred hauled an armful of squirming boy — Rex, the one who had no wings — from the hall closet. "Young man, we do not hide in this household."

Rex's eyes flashed over to Shayera's, and for a moment, she knew exactly what he was thinking: Alfred was really good at self-deception.

She heard a giggle from behind the curtain, and Alfred swept it aside to reveal Carter. _That's going to be fun to try to keep straight._ Another thought poked at her, but before she could grasp it, the small boy threw himself at her legs.

"Mama!" He hugged her tight. He was so small, it was like being attacked by a throw pillow.

Rex went pale. "Carter, stop it."

"Uh uh." He kept hugging her, and she had no idea how to get him to stop, short of kicking him away. Her hands clenched and then relaxed. She placed her palm on his soft hair.

"Um. Hi."

"Rex said you went away but I knew you were going to come back. We were on our own and it was dark. Mom, the man made us take a bath but it was okay."

"Stop it!" said Rex again.

"And we had eggs for breakfast but I ate mine anyway. Can we go home now, Mom?"

"Stop. Calling her. 'MOM!'" He'd pulled away from Alfred, was advancing on his brother. Carter ignored him, rested his head against Shayera's leg. "I already told you, she's not Mom, and the guy you're gonna see later isn't Dad. They just look like them but they're not real."

She sent a silent plea to Alfred, who clapped his hands together. "Lads, why don't you show Miss Hawkgirl," she flinched, "to the kitchen. I'm sure she could use a drink."

"Got any tequila?" she asked, as Carter grabbed her hand and led her lightly to the kitchen. Rex followed; a glance behind her let her see the glower. _Way to go. The big one already hates me. This may be a new record._

They sat at the small kitchen table while Alfred set glasses of orange juice in front of each of them, and then poured one for himself. Sadly, he didn't add an extra shot of anything to hers, she discovered as she sipped.

"Isn't it a bit early to be shouting?" said Bruce, walking into the kitchen. Alfred immediately handed him his own orange juice, which made Shayera wonder if the butler weren't a touch psychic. The boys straightened up in their chairs as soon as they saw him. "Good morning, boys."

"Morning," they chorused quietly. Rex drank his juice while Carter ignored his, instead staring at her in wide-eyed fascination.

Bruce nodded to Shayera. "I didn't expect to see you here this early."

"You all but ordered me. I came." She toyed with her glass. "I'm still not sure why." Rex's glare was back; Carter stayed quiet, kicking his legs under the table.

"You're here because you need to be. Carter, do you know how to fly?"

"A little."

"Fine. Shayera, you can teach him more."

"It's daylight."

"We're secluded enough."

"I'm going with you," Rex announced. Carter clutched at his hand. Bruce shrugged.

Shayera finished her juice. "I want to talk to you alone for a moment."

She and Bruce moved to the dining room. She said, "I don't know what you're trying to do ... "

"We have a limited time frame," he said, in the Bat's voice. "Rex could be taken from us at any point. We need to build some kind of bond with Carter before that happens. You look like his mother, and he'll bond with you the easiest."

"I don't _want_ to bond with him. Not my kid. _Her_ kid. Remember? The fascists who tried to kill us and take over for us?"

"We're not holding the children responsible for what their parents did. They're kids, and they need our help."

"Ever consider your counterpart would _know_ you'd think like that?" He glared at her just as fiercely as Rex had. "Fine," she relented. "I'll show him some tricks. Don't expect more, and don't ask more."

Leaving him there, she returned to the kitchen. "Come on. Let's go flying."

* * *

Out in the open air, things were clearer. She wasn't worried about being spotted; if Bruce didn't think it was possible she'd be seen and the connection between them made, it _had_ to be a non-issue. This was a man who was legendarily paranoid.

She soared by a security camera, one of dozens around the property. _Legendarily insane,_ she amended.

She landed by the children. "Okay. We're going to start with something basic. I'm going to lift you up, and you can spread your wings while I hold you, all right?"

"All right," Carter agreed, and held out his arms. His weight was nothing at all as she jumped up, held him away from her, and helped him spread his wings. She stayed low, letting him catch the air, then started to pull up away from the ground. Rex went smaller and smaller beneath them.

Up here, things made sense. Here she didn't have to worry about the past or the future, about what Carter — the other Carter — was thinking when he said "Nothing," about hard looks on too many faces when she went out in public. Up here, she was safe.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Okay," he said.

"I'm going to let go now. Let the air buoy you up. Don't be afraid. I'll catch you."

"I'm not afraid." He smiled.

She dropped him. Carter fell about ten feet, then turned his feathers just so and caught the wind. He flew beneath her gracefully as they glided for a little while around the second storey of the Manor.

"Try this," she said, and banked hard to the right. He imitated her perfectly.

Far below them, she saw Rex running to keep them in sight, stumbling as he did, and she smiled to herself. Then she lost her smile.

"Carter," she said, banking left and watching approvingly as he copied her, "do you know why Rex doesn't have wings?"

"Yup."

There was a long silence. They flew back and forth. Shayera demonstrated how to gain altitude quickly, and he followed without hesitation.

"Carter, why doesn't Rex have wings?"

"His didn't work ever."

Shayera dropped twenty feet, only barely catching herself in time. Carter glided down beside her. "What do you mean they didn't work?"

He shrugged, continued to hover beside her. Rex was close enough to them now that he could probably hear their conversation, but she was past caring.

"They didn't work. He was in your tummy, I mean, in Mama's tummy, when she got hurt by the powerupter."

"Power disruptor?" Several curses ran through Shayera's head at once, and only a great deal of self-control kept her from shouting all of them in front of the child. She landed.

Carter landed beside her and ran to his brother. "Did you see?"

"I saw," said Rex, watching her intently.

"She was ... " Shayera said. "The power disruptor ... "

"It took away their powers," Rex said. "That was the idea, right?"

"You were born with wings, though."

"They didn't work. Mom and Dad cut them off when I was little."

Her stomach lurched. Moments later, she coughed up the orange juice and her breakfast on Alfred's poor rosebushes. The mental image of another her and another John, cutting off their own child's ... She heaved again, and then was still.

"Yuck," said Carter, when she had wiped her mouth and stood. Rex said nothing, just watched her.

"Sorry," she said, and she wasn't sure what she was sorry for: for throwing up, for the little boy who had no wings, for being part of the reason his mother had been hit with the ray, for everything.

"Can we fly some more?" Carter asked.

She looked at Rex, but he gave nothing away. "All right," she said. "Next lesson."

* * *

They'd flown to Gotham, but Mari wanted to rent a car and drive the rest of the way. She'd told John it would give her more time to ponder what he'd told her. She needed the breathing room.

He'd tried to explain, bless him, but John was never good with words. She knew about the Justice Lords, assumed that they had gone on with their lives after their little fling with world domination here, and understood that there were now two boys living at Wayne Manor who really weren't from around here.

She was still having trouble with why they were John's problem.

"But they're not your children," she tried again, as he turned off the winding highway onto the short drive to Bruce Wayne's front gate.

"They _are_, just not in this universe. Let me explain."

"No, I got the explanation. I understand alternate universes, Boo. Kind of have to, in our line of work."

"So you get it."

"No, I really don't. Listen, did you and the other founding members kill Luthor and take control of the planet?"

"Of course not." They reached the gate. John rolled down the window. "John Stewart, to see Mr. Wayne." The gate swung open and he drove inside.

"Okay. So you also didn't father those kids."

"Obviously not," he said, pulling into the parking circle. "But they're my responsibility."

"Not any more than the rest of the League."

"Mari, it's different."

"I don't think so," she said, just as two winged forms flew past their car. Shayera she recognized, but the smaller figure had zoomed by too quickly. She got out of the car as John did. Instead of watching the pair coming in for a landing, she watched his face light up.

_Not at her_ she told herself firmly. _He's not happy to see her. He's happy to see the kids._

And why wouldn't he be? The winged little boy was the spitting image of John from the few childhood pictures he'd dug out for her to see. The larger boy coming up behind him had the same features carved into a lighter face. They could not have been more perfect blends of John and Shayera had they come from a catalogue. The younger one could have been born while Shayera had been out of the public eye, and no one would have been the wiser. Only John's assurances that this was not the case, and the fact that he'd never lied to her, kept her from speculating anyway.

"Hi," she said, putting on her best dazzle-the-crowd smile.

"Hi," said the smaller one. _Carter,_ she remembered. _That must be driving John crazy._

"Who are you?" demanded the older boy, Rex.

Mari felt her smile start to slip.

* * *

"Interesting company you're keeping these days," said Dr. Nichols, peering out through the heavy curtains in Tim's room.

"I suppose," said Tim. Nichols knew the Bat's secret, had to so Tim's therapy could progress. The costumes with secret identities would be bright enough to preserve them, or they deserved to be caught.

Tim twitched.

"That's Hawkgirl, and I'm pretty sure Green Lantern just drove up, with ... " Nichols coughed, and backed away from the window.

Lantern must have brought his girlfriend. Vixen was a fashion model in her day job. Tim wondered idly if Nichols was one of the hordes of guys who stroked it to Photoshopped pictures of her on the internet. Then he wondered if Lantern ever punched out guys who were horny for Vixen. Then he remembered punching, felt the slick of his gauntlet sliding off a shattered jaw, and if he knew how to smile without breaking into hysterical laughter, he'd have smiled right there.

"Where were you, just then?" Nichols was watching him intently.

"In an alley beating a perp," Tim said.

"How did you feel?"

"Good." No doubt, no hesitation. Beating bad guys was the best thing ever, twisting a bone to the breaking point, and if he chose, going over that point. No one ever suspected him, the little Robin, and he tried to be good, but sometimes, oh it was glorious.

He was panting. He stopped himself.

"Are the dreams changing?"

"No." Nichols had pages and pages about Tim's very precious dreams, oh yes, and he showed them to Bruce after every session like the good little trained poodle he was.

Tim was aware, vaguely, that not all these thoughts were his own, that new pathways had been imprinted upon his psyche like burning brands to bare flesh.

He twitched again.

"Tell me where you are."

"Arkham," he breathed, and tried to force away the thoughts, but there was bright light around him and pain everywhere, and laughter inside his head.

* * *

Dr. Nichols closed the door. "I've administered a mild sedative. He should be awake and functional, but relaxed." Bruce waited; he was very good at waiting. "I think the flashbacks are getting worse. Has there been any change in his daily routine?"

"A slight one. Another child in the house. Temporary."

"Really? I counted two." Bruce's lips quirked. He would inform Shayera that all future training sessions would have to be in the Cave after all. "He thinks you're recruiting a new Robin."

"I'm not."

"If you care for Tim at all, you won't."

"Dr. Nichols ... "

"Mr. Wayne, you don't understand. Tim has been through a very traumatic experience." Bruce thought he _did_ understand, but he remained quiet and let the doctor continue. "When the Joker began to torture him, Tim put everything of himself that he wanted to keep hidden, keep safe, behind a mental wall. It's a common self-defense mechanism in trauma situations. In extreme cases, it can lead to Dissociative Identity Disorder." Bruce felt a grim amusement that the doctor tried so hard not to look at Bruce as he said that.

"I don't think that's the case here," Nichols added hurriedly. "But I know the dichotomy was important to Tim. It was his last defense against the Joker, the last thing the Joker broke inside of him.

"He named the hidden place 'Robin.'

"He's still got part of himself locked away behind that wall, for all that the Joker got inside there, too. The only way he's going to heal is to integrate those parts of his personality back into the rest of him. He's afraid of the process, afraid of what he'll find there, but I'm certain that, given time, he _can_ become whole.

"You've already forbidden him to be Robin again, which I can agree with from a safety point of view. But you can't deny him the identity entirely and then bestow it on another boy. You'll kill the last thing the Joker left alive inside him."

Bruce said, "I'm not looking for a new Robin. I want Tim to be healthy again. That's all."

"It may be too much to ask," said Nichols, as Alfred brought him his coat and hat. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Wayne. Alfred."

Bruce watched Nichols go out the main door past where John had parked. He wasn't sure why John had chosen to drive instead of come in the back like normal, but then Vixen came into sight and he understood completely. He wondered if John had told her about their future trek yet.

* * *

"You saw _what_?" Her eyes narrowed. Her voice was flat. Mari was displeased. And Shayera looked just as unhappy. Thank God the boys were upstairs and not in the dining room in the middle of this.

"I'm telling you what he told me. I'm pretty sure he was telling the truth." He felt freed, if also doomed, were the expressions in both pairs of eyes any indication. He'd wanted to talk about this with someone, _anyone_, ever since he and Bruce had gotten home. But Bruce hated to talk, and John had been afraid of changing the future.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mari demanded. "Hell, why didn't you tell _her_?"

Shayera added, "High on my list of questions, too."

"I couldn't. It was the future. The more people who knew about it, the more it could get screwed up later." John paused, then continued: "And now it looks like it wasn't our future, not exactly, and I'm sorry, all right?"

"I hate time travel," Shayera said, rubbing her forehead.

"You and me both," said Mari. John thought about chiming in, and decided his health demanded otherwise.

"All right," Shayera said. "You saw Rex. What about Carter?"

"He wasn't there. Everybody was dead except Rex, Virgil, Bruce, and the new Batman."

Mari asked, "And this is a future you want to keep?"

"No. I mean, it was already messed up before we got there. But we fixed that. I think. Bruce put Chronos into a time loop before he started. Anything he made happen wouldn't have happened, so nobody died." _Probably._

Shayera asked, "Did I mention hating time travel?"

Mari said, "So. You knew about Rex. Knew he was coming anyway. And now he's here, and you know you're going to adopt him because he already called you 'Dad' in the future."

"Something like that."

"What about us?" Mari's tone was guarded.

"We're exactly where we were yesterday."

"No, we're not."

"I'll be up with the kids," Shayera said. Considering that she'd been looking at them like plague carriers, this was saying something. She amended, "Or better, looking for something strong to drink. Bruce has to have a wine cellar or something in this place."

"Stay here," said Mari. "This involves you, too."

"It really doesn't. I have a boyfriend." John thought he schooled his expression admirably. Shayera continued, "He likes me. I like him. You two can feel free to work out things without me."

"We can't," said Mari while looking at him, "because John here has spent the past couple of years believing you're going to wind up married to him. And we need to talk about that."

John thought a stiff drink sounded lovely.

* * *

The door opened. Tim turned his head, expecting Alfred or maybe Barbara. Instead it was one of the new kids, the one with the feathers. "Get out," he said. "You can't have my room, too."

"What happened to your arm?" The kid pointed to his band-aid.

"I got a shot." The boy's face twisted. "It helps me relax. It's okay."

"You gonna take a nap?"

"I might." A nap sounded nice, actually. He could close his eyes and drift away, and as long as the drug was in his system, the dreams wouldn't haunt him as badly. His head lolled, and he saw the other boy standing at the doorway, watching carefully. As Tim's eyes closed, the figures of both kids swam in front of his eyes, making strange shapes in the air.

He opened his eyes, unaware of any time passing, to find the two of them sitting in front of his GameCube, playing Robot Racers. The one with the wings was making car noises and screeching, while the other moved his thumbs on the controls like a pro. Tim was too tired and muzzy-headed to object.

He sat up.

"Watch out," he said. "You've got a ... " But the kid already had it covered. "You're good at this one."

"We used to play it all the time," said the one with the wings. "We lived with Batman for a while."

_Me, too._ "In your world?"

"Yeah," said the other one. "After Dad died. We had to stay hidden."

Tim got that. "Hey," he said to the one with the wings. "What's your name?"

"Carter. That's Rex."

"I'm Tim."

"We know," said Rex, still watching the screen.

"Carter, can I have the other controller?" Carter stared at the controller in front of him.

Rex handed his over. "You take this one." Then he grabbed the one in front of Carter without asking.

They played five rounds of Robot Racer until Carter got bored and went back to their room for a nap. Then Tim put in War Machines II, which was way too violent for Rex and made him happy anyway. They barely talked, just focused on the clicking and firing, and Tim thought it was a pretty good day.

About an hour later, Bruce came to the doorway. "Are you two ready to come downstairs for lunch? Alfred says he's made ravioli. Besides, I think the other grown-ups have finally stopped shouting at each other." The forced joviality in his voice was for Rex, but the question was almost entirely for Tim.

"Maybe later," Tim said.

"Can Carter and I eat up here?" Rex asked.

"I'd rather you ate downstairs," Bruce said. Rex frowned. "Let's get your brother."

Rex set down his controller and followed Bruce out with a wave good-bye to Tim. Tim watched them go, listened as they called for Carter, who had either never gone to the room or had napped and left, listened further as they searched the house and Rex eventually found him in the pantry. Tim closed the door, but heard the small footsteps come up the stairs and go into the room next door.

_Guess they're eating up here after all,_ he thought, as he heard Alfred set his tray down outside his door.

* * *

Wally was convinced he had the world's best timing ever. He'd set out for Bruce's place at a brisk run, and arrived just in time for lunch: homemade ravioli with some of the best sauce he'd ever tasted. The old guy sure could cook. The five or six times he'd been to see Bruce in his natural habitat, he'd seen other servants around, like a cook and a maid who wasn't nearly as pretty as he'd figured Bruce would hire, but they were gone today.

_Weekends off? Sent home so they wouldn't see the kids?_

Now that he thought about it, slurping the last bits of sauce from his third plateful, he hadn't seen them since that whole thing with Robin, so maybe they'd been sent home because of the _other_ kid. Not that Tim was really a little kid. Sure he was kind of short, but he was almost the same age Wally'd been when Wally had gotten emancipated from the state and struck out on his own, and had gotten that night job at the chemical warehouse place, and ...

Wally set his plate down, watched Alfred whisk it away. Vix and Shay — names he never ever called them out loud — sat together chatting. John looked like he'd swallowed a plate of worms, but he usually looked that way when his girlfriends were talking. Supes, whose timing wasn't as good as Wally's and so who'd shown up halfway through lunch wearing his Geeky Reporter disguise, was still enjoying his pasta. Bruce sat back, observing.

Weird, seeing everybody together. Almost everybody.

He'd been surprised Diana had shown up last night, but he guessed he wasn't surprised to notice she wasn't here now. J'onn had duty until this evening, so he had an excuse.

"Flash," Bruce said suddenly. "Can you bring the kids down here?"

"Be right back," he said, and dashed to their room. He remembered at the last second that he had to be polite, and knocked. "You guys ready to come downstairs?"

"Yes," came the two voices. He heard water running, and then the door opened. Rex carried the two empty bowls in one hand and held onto Carter's hand with the other. Carter was clean, considering the whole pasta thing, but Rex had missed half his face and looked pretty funny.

"Hold on," Wally said, and zipped past them to their bathroom for a washcloth. "There you go, bud," he said, wiping the sauce away. "You got his face but you missed yours."

"Yeah. Thanks," said Rex, face ruddy under the quick scrubbing.

Wally took the dishes and the three of them went back to the dining room. As the boys climbed into chairs, Bruce said, "We need a plan."

"You're the one with twenty backup plans at all times," said Superman. "You don't have one now?"

"I have several. None of them are best-case."

"This is simple," said John. "They're living with me. I'll move into one of the Towers. Instant security." Wally doubted he was the only one who caught Vixen's look.

"Sure," said Shayera. "Because we've got a great history with Watchtowers not being attacked or blown up."

"Blown up?" asked Carter.

"Technically, it was an impact," said Bruce.

"_Not_ inspiring confidence," said Shayera, watching the matching expressions of interest and mild terror on the boys' faces.

John said, "This one's already on the ground. No impacts. It'll be fine."

Bruce asked, "And you'll live there the rest of your lives?"

John shrugged. "Just for now. When they're bigger, maybe we can ..." He stopped, and looked at Carter. "We'll think of something."

Superman said, "They'll be targets. If anyone ever finds out about either of them, every enemy we ever had will be gunning for them." Wally thought maybe he ought to take the kids out of the room again.

"Which means no paper trail," Vixen said. "If John adopts Rex, there's paperwork. Someone will find out."

"Someone will find out regardless," said Wally. "You can't keep them a secret forever." He glanced around the room, realizing he was in the presence of people who'd kept some of the best secrets in the world their whole lives. "Or maybe you can."

Bruce said, "They're in the greatest danger from being identified as Thanagarian. If John did adopt Rex, we could pass him off as human."

"But not Carter," Shayera said.

"No."

The kids started to fidget. This was grownup talk, not really interesting for all it had to do with their future. Wally asked, "You two wanna go outside?"

"Sure!" said Carter, and Rex nodded.

"Call us when you've figured something out," Wally said as they headed out.

A motorcycle roared into the driveway just as Wally was opening the front door, and he grabbed the kids without thinking, pulling them behind the door. "Wait here," he told them as he peered out. The helmet came off, revealing a young guy, maybe his own age, with a dark, neat ponytail. Wally relaxed. He'd never been formally introduced to Nightwing, but he had zero doubts regardless.

He opened the door wide as Nightwing approached the house. "Hi."

Nightwing immediately went on guard. "Hello. I was just looking for Bruce. Is he home?"

"Right through here." Wally paused a sec. "Um, you are who I think you are, right?" He hadn't had issues with the other League members. Bruce had outed everybody on the original team during the invasion, and Wally either didn't encounter people out of costume, or didn't know if he had. _How do you tell somebody without telling them, just in case?_

"Who do you think I am?" the guy asked. Wally felt the kids press closer to his leg.

"You're ... " His brain tossed up the name. "Dick. Right?"

"And you're?"

"Master Dick," said Alfred smoothly, coming from nowhere. "How good of you to come."

Dick's face — and wow, that had to hurt as a name, growing up — lit up with a genuine smile as he saw the butler. "Hey, Alfred. Babs said you had company."

"Indeed. I believe Mr. West was about to take our young guests out to play. Sir, may I suggest our playroom in the basement? It's a less public area."

"Playroom?" asked Carter, peeking out from behind Wally's leg. Dick stared at him.

"Basement?" asked Rex.

_Bat Cave?_ thought Wally.

"I beg you not to touch anything, but I believe you will find the space adequate for a number of games."

"Let's go," said Carter, grabbing Rex's hand excitedly. The kid was awfully perky, considering. Wally had a hard time picturing either little GL or little Shayera being so ready to play, or laugh.

He followed them to the clock. _Bat Cave. Cool._ "We'll, um, be downstairs." _Time to explore._

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

The Stolen Child (3/4)  
a Justice League story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-13

* * *

Part Three

* * *

Against his better judgement, Dick poked his head into the dining room. Yep, that was a boatload of superheroes sitting at the table where he used to do his homework. Clark smiled and nodded at him like an equal. Bruce gave him an update with just a raise of his eyebrow: new development regarding the kids, Tim still the same.

"Afternoon, all," Dick said. "I met our new guests. Taking the 'Robin' thing literally this time, are you Bruce?"

"They're _not_ Robins and they're _not_ staying. Do you have any good ideas for trying to hide two half-alien children?"

"Make the wings go away on the little one," he said.

Hawkgirl glared at him. "No."

Dick shrugged; he'd fought dozens of Thanagarians in Bludhaven. "Your call. But he's going to draw attention anywhere he goes otherwise."

Clark looked at her. "What have you told Carter? _Your_ Carter," he amended.

"Nothing. This doesn't involve him."

"Oh really?" asked Vixen. Dick nodded to Bruce and passed through to the kitchen before they could start fighting. _When Bruce is the most emotionally stable person in the room, you know you've got serious problems._

Alfred was already there, topping some ravioli with some of his homemade sauce. Dick decided Tim could wait a few minutes, and sat at the kitchen table as Alfred put the plate down.

"Where's Babs? She called me."

"Miss Gordon has work today, I believe."

"It's Saturday."

"Not everyone works Monday through Friday, Master Dick," Alfred admonished, rolling up his sleeves and walking to the sink. Dick got the hint.

"Good stuff, Alfred," he said, cleaning his plate. "So," he said, sitting back while Alfred loaded the lunch dishes into the dishwasher. "How are things really?"

"The same." He wiped a plate. "Aside from the obvious. I believe Master Tim's nightmares are getting worse."

Dick took a sip of milk. "Is the doctor going to sedate him at night again?"

"Perhaps." Dick observed Alfred, using the skills Bruce had taught him over the years. There were lines on Alfred's face that had not existed a year ago, a curve to his otherwise rigid spine that suggested not only age, but a great weight on his shoulders.

They all blamed themselves for what had happened. Had one of them done something different, called Tim home earlier, gone on patrol with him that night, _anything_, he might not be in his room now locked inside his own head.

"I'll be upstairs," he said, standing.

"Yes, sir." Alfred continued with his housework. They all had coping mechanisms, Dick supposed..

He went out of the kitchen the back way, so as not to bug the Leaguers, and up the back staircase. He knocked on Tim's door. "Hey, little brother, you in here?"

"Very funny," said Tim from inside.

Dick went in without an invitation. "Brought you something." He pulled the game out of his pocket.

"War Machines III. Cool. Thanks." Dick was just as glad he didn't smile. He'd been there the last time Tim had tried.

"I thought maybe we could get in a couple of rounds this afternoon."

"Kind of tired," Tim said. "Got another shot."

"All right. Well, maybe we can just sit and talk."

"Bruce gave me the Talk years ago, Dick."

"Fine. So we can sit here and stare at each other."

"Dipshit."

"Dork." He smiled as he said it. He and Tim had their own pattern of interaction, and it worked for them. He'd never had a brother, never wanted one really, but Tim made a reasonable substitute in what passed for Dick's family. "Alfred says you're having more nightmares."

"I'll live. I'm good at that."

"Yep." Dick looked around, noticed both game controllers were out. "Going ambidextrous?"

"You said it's better when you've got two hands to choose from."

"Tim."

He shrugged; with the sedative still in his system, it was a clumsy movement instead of the old grace. "The plebes were in here playing."

"Plebes?"

"Bruce's new recruits."

"He's not recruiting anyone."

"Sure."

"He's not. Babs is his partner now." Funny. It used to hurt to say that.

"Whatever." Tim rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes. "Go downstairs with the sane people, Dick."

"Dude, do you know who he's got for company today? 'Sane' isn't even on the guest list." He hoped to get some touch of amusement from Tim, but there was no reaction. "All right. I'll be here until late tonight. If you want to talk, come down and see me."

"Funny guy."

"At least open your windows sometime today. Your room reeks."

"Go. Away."

Dick left him still lying there and went back downstairs. No one was around. _Weird._

The clock was just that touch askew; no one not from the household would have noticed, but Dick figured whoever'd gone down last wasn't familiar with the closing mechanism. He opened it and went down the dark stairs into the Cave.

"Bruce?"

"Over here."

He saw the Leaguers spread out in various parts of the Cave, apparently looking for something. Bruce was investigating the southern stalagmite formation with a high-powered flashlight. "What's up?"

"Flash lost Carter."

"I didn't lose him," protested the redhead he'd met at the front door, zipping up to him. "He's just hiding somewhere."

"You weren't paying attention," said John.

"Rex and I were talking. Right, Rex?"

"I guess," said the boy sitting in Bruce's chair at the computer. His face had "taking a time out" written all over it.

"About what?" Dick asked, ducking his head under the workout equipment to see if the kid had squeezed in over there.

"Stuff," said Rex.

Flash said, "I was asking Rex where Carter got his name."

"Subtle," said Hawkgirl irritably from above them, systematically searching the stalactites.

"I was just asking."

Green Lantern continued to shine his ring into various crevasses. He asked casually, "What did he say?"

"Over here!" said Rex, and jumped out of the chair. Moments later, he was tugging Carter from behind the Bat computer. The rest of them gathered around.

"Are you all right?" Lantern asked, kneeling down and brushing him off. Dick didn't see any actual dirt on the kid's clothes, but he supposed there were some things people just did when they found lost children.

Carter nodded. "I'm okay."

Bruce demanded, "Why didn't you come out when we called for you?"

"I dunno. Can we go upstairs? I don't like it down here any more."

Bruce pointed up the stairs, and the boys led the way back up. Bruce and Dick lingered in the Cave, checking for anything moved or damaged. Nothing was out of place, even behind the computer. Dick wished that made him feel better.

"They can't stay, Bruce."

"They're not going to."

"Keep telling yourself that." Bruce looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and Dick saw the lines on his face, too. He also recognized the look in Bruce's eyes. "You can't fix them. Not here."

"I know."

Dick wasn't sure he did. Every time Bruce met a kid like Dick, like Tim, a kid whose circumstances mirrored Bruce's own, the Batman and the billionaire both went away, and were replaced by the eight-year-old. And Dick knew that child would do _anything_ to undo what had happened.

The two little boys upstairs had lost their parents, but they had come to a place where duplicates of their parents lived, and Dick knew a part of Bruce would be soothed if the children got back even a simulation of the family they'd lost.

But it wasn't real.

This Cave had been a second home for Dick when he'd been a boy. The shadows in the corners fed into darknesses in the soul. He'd escaped, eventually, touched by the night and named by it, but not tamed to its bidding as Bruce had been. He knew its allure and its dangers, too tempting for the broken children Bruce brought to his side, even for Bruce himself.

Wayne Manor was not a place people came to heal; it was a place, at best, where people came to find others with whom they _could_ heal.

The kids had to go, before they were as trapped as the rest of them.

* * *

Diana and J'onn showed up in time for dinner. Wally half-expected one of the others to leave, just to keep the balance, but they all managed a meal, League and Batclan alike, with the three youngest people in the house up in their rooms.

_This place makes its own wacky._

"I have spoken with our members with magical abilities," said J'onn. "Dr. Fate has offered sanctuary, of course. Zatanna believes she can cast a glamour on Carter to disguise his wings, but it would be temporary at best."

Diana said, "I've talked with my mother. If the children were female, she'd allow them to come, but she won't budge."

Shayera asked, "Why did you even ask her?"

"I thought she might say yes. She likes you."

"She loves you but she banished you for letting the men follow you to Themyscira."

"Give her points for consistency, then," Wally said.

J'onn turned to GL. "Have you contacted Oa?"

"Not yet. Why?"

For once, Wally thought he knew where things were going before they got there. "That'd be the easiest thing, right? Get reassigned to another sector, or just move to another planet in this one. I mean, what does it matter what these two look like when all the other kids in school are purple?" He grinned.

He realized he was the only one grinning. The rest of the crew looked more serious than usual; Vixen's lips were pressed so tight together they made a line. Wally realized he hadn't heard her say anything in quite some time.

"Okay, maybe not."

"No," said John. "It's not a bad thought. I just didn't want to consider it."

Batman asked, "J'onn, did you get the paperwork?"

J'onn nodded and handed over a stack of official-looking documents. "You were correct. The Question did have the expertise to forge the necessary forms."

_Freak_, Wally thought, but in a kinder way than he would have once.

John came up behind Bats and read them over his shoulder. "These are good. Just one set?"

"For the moment," said J'onn. "We can arrange appropriate documentation for Carter at a later date, should the need arise."

"That just leaves ... " The doorbell chimed.

"Who else are you expecting?" Supes asked Batman. "From the front entrance?"

Bats got one of those little smiles he did when somebody was about to have a bad day. J'onn's eyes glowed, and then he stared at Batman. "This is not your best idea."

Bats ignored him, shutting the door behind him as he went to greet whoever it was in the entrance hall.

J'onn lightly grabbed Shayera's wrist. "You should come."

"Why?" Her eyes widened. "He didn't."

And sure enough, moments later, Bats brought Carter Hall into the dining room with the rest of them.

"Uh, hi," he said, obviously only recognizing about half the people in the room. Spotting his girlfriend, and pointedly _not_ walking past her ex to reach her, he gave her an unsure smile. "You didn't tell me you knew Bruce Wayne."

"Nobody really knows him," Shayera said in a brittle tone. "For example, I had no idea until just now how big of a horse's ass he is."

Nightwing coughed to hide a laugh. Superman smirked. Carter just looked confused.

"Take him upstairs. They should still be in Tim's room," Bats told her. "Like it, don't like it, he's involved in this too."

"Fine," she said. "And the next time you think about getting involved in my personal life? _Don't._" She grabbed her boyfriend's hand and dragged him out of the room and up the stairs.

"Was that necessary?" Superman asked when they'd gone.

"He has to know."

"Why?" asked John. "She's already said she doesn't want to be involved. No reason for _him_ to be here at all." Wally hadn't thought Vixen's mouth could go even tighter, but apparently he'd been wrong.

"Because Carter, _little_ Carter, still thinks that she's his mother. That makes the other Carter involved too."

"Could we possibly call them other things?" Wally asked. "That's going to get confusing fast."

There was a shout from upstairs. Wally paused for half a sec, then zoomed up the stairs, knowing the rest would get there eventually. In Tim's room, Rex stood trembling in the middle of the floor, staring at his brother's namesake. Said little brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Everything okay up here?" Wally asked.

"It will be," said Tim, "as soon as you all get the hell out of my room." Tim looked terrible: pale, thin, dark circles under haunted eyes. Kara had told Wally that Batgirl had said he'd been completely bugshit insane when they'd brought him home. Wally could believe that.

"You're dead," said Rex.

"This is a different universe, kid," Wally said.

Shayera got to her knees. "It's all right. This isn't the big Carter you knew."

"No," said Rex again, still trembling. "I saw you die. Go away. GO AWAY!"

So. _Two_ bugshit insane kids in the room. Fantastic.

"Come on," Shayera said, getting to her feet and grabbing her boyfriend's hand again. "We'll talk to Carter. I mean, little Carter."

"Out," Tim said to Wally.

"Okay. C'mon, Rex."

"He can stay." Rex crawled up on the edge of Tim's bed and huddled there until Wally left.

Out in the hallway, he saw the door to the boys' bedroom open. Shayera and big Carter were inside, looking for the smaller boy. GL was at the top of the stairs but came no closer to either door.

"Hiding again?" Wally asked.

"Guess so," said Shayera. She didn't stop searching.

"He'll come out when he's ready. Probably just scared."

"Yeah," she said.

"I'll look," John offered, and started focusing with his ring, bathing them all with the weird green light.

"You'll just scare him more," she said. "Anyway, he likes me better."

"No accounting for taste."

"Please," said big Carter. "Will somebody explain what exactly just happened?"

* * *

"I hate dimensional travel," Hall said.

"Amen," said Lantern, in a rare show of agreement. Carter had eventually been located by his brother — napping in a closet in the East Wing — and they'd been sent to bed. Rex still didn't want anything to do with Hall. Bruce had grilled Flash on exactly what had been said, but he wasn't sure yet what he would do with the information.

Perhaps Ms. Fowler had been right, and a session or two with Dr. Nichols was exactly what Rex needed. Tim had improved during his time under the man's care, relatively speaking. He hadn't tried to hurt himself in over a month.

"We're open to suggestions on how to proceed," Bruce said.

"Proceed?" Hall looked at his hands on the table. "You're asking me?"

"No, we're not," said Lantern.

"Ideas are ideas," said Diana. "None of ours are completely workable."

"I mean," Hall said, oblivious to both of them, "I could see Shay and I adopting Rex, no problem, but not Carter."

"What's wrong with Carter?" both John and Shayera demanded of him at the same time in the same tone.

"Dear, he has wings. People already hate you on sight. They see a child who's obviously a human and Thanagarian cross, they'll go postal. What's that you said about magic?" He was surprisingly blase for having just discovered the secret identities of half the founding League members.

Diana explained the glamour to Hall while Bruce observed the others in the room. John and Shayera were still fuming at Hall, though Bruce suspected his off-hand remark was just the easiest target for their general irritation.

"We should go," Vixen said suddenly. "It's getting late. We can come back tomorrow and see the boys when they're awake."

John stood but stayed where he was. "We still need to figure out what we're doing with them."

"I know," she said. "Goodnight, everyone."

John hesitated for a moment. "See you tomorrow," he told the rest of them, and followed her out.

Bruce had spent a lifetime tuning his body to be the perfect instrument for his work, and yet there were reflexes he could not control. He chose to believe one of those led him to stare at Diana until she turned her head to watch him back.

_This is why,_ he thought at her. _Please show me you understand._

He thought maybe he saw an answering glimmer of comprehension in her eyes, let it warm him for a fraction of a second, until he heard the clock open. A few moments later, Barbara let herself into the dining room. Diana's gaze hardened and she looked away from him.

* * *

Mari put the hotel room on her card. It made sense to stay close; they all had their communicators in case of a League emergency anyway. John brought up the two small bags they'd packed and placed them on the bed.

Mari looked around, breathing in the hotel's scent. She was used to sleeping in strange rooms, found that the best way to make it not-strange was to get accustomed to the odors of the fabric cleansers, scented oils and candles, and recirculated, conditioned air particular to every place she stayed. This room had vanilla tones, with honeysuckle. Fresh flowers filled the vase on the table: lilies, chosen more for their beauty than their scent.

"We should have stayed longer," John said.

"No, we shouldn't." _The last thing I want to see is you getting into another pissing contest with Carter Hall._

John went into the bathroom while Mari took off her shoes and rubbed her feet. She'd worn stupid shoes today. She didn't always dress up when she knew she'd be in the same room as John's ex. There usually wasn't much of a point, and anyway, her costume was more than good enough to remind John of what he was getting.

He came out of the bathroom, delightfully naked, and let her have her turn. Part of her wanted a bath but more of her wanted a cuddle, and she could shower later.

She watched him watch her appreciatively as she came out of the bathroom in just the complimentary robe, tied to give him a good view of everything. Sometimes, putting on a little bit of a show was half the fun. Then John drew her to the bed and really, the show hadn't been even a tenth of the fun, considering.

After, though, after was her favorite part, when she lay snuggled in his embrace while he nodded off, snoring in fits and then waking with an apologetic squeeze. This was when she was certain John loved her, here within his arms. It was a feeling she tried to hold onto, because it lasted only until she finally, regretfully, rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom for that shower.

He was still asleep when she came back out, moist and glowing from the heat. She wanted to wake him up, talk to him, but instead she sat in one of the room's plush chairs and watched him as he rested. He was at his most vulnerable like this. She couldn't imagine not loving him, seeing him spread out under the blankets without guile.

She glanced at her ring. He'd let her do most of the shopping for it, bowing to her much better taste in these things. She knew he'd wanted to buy it himself so she'd kept her choice to something simple: a small diamond, two tiny sapphires to either side. It had more glitter than substance but she liked the way it sparkled, and wore it whenever she wasn't actually on the runway.

On the car ride to the hotel, John had started talking about setting a date.

Eight months they'd been engaged, and even then "engaged" wasn't quite the right word. He'd never asked her, not properly, say after a bottle of good wine, under an appropriately starry or moonlit sky. She'd simply remarked one day, partly as a joke and partly as a hint, that it wasn't fair that he was the only one with a ring on his finger, and he'd taken her out the next day to look for one. However, he hadn't actually proposed, and there had been no further action from either of them to make either the engagement or a marriage official.

And she thought she finally understood why. He'd seen Rex, some version of Rex, in a future he admitted didn't even really exist, and he'd spent the past eighteen months since then believing he would someday lose or leave Mari and take up with Shayera again.

He'd never told her, never told either of them. Shayera had moved on, and Mari had gotten stuck in this not-engaged place with him, until he'd found a new way to get that son. So now it was okay to get married. It wouldn't interfere with his _plans_ now, should they get married.

But he hadn't asked. John never asked: he assumed, he planned, he teased, he arranged, and he always accepted "No," with or without an explanation. She knew he respected her opinion when she gave it. She _liked_ it when he took control of things, and she did tell him when she disagreed. Usually. Eventually.

But it would be nice if he'd ask her what she thought, what she wanted. Just once.

John let out a large snore and woke himself up. He saw her watching him and sat up, the covers puddled around his waist. "Hey. What time is it?"

"Late," she said.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"I was just ... " She stopped, and started again. "You love those boys, don't you."

"Of course I do." He rubbed the sleepy creatures from his eyes.

"And you love me."

He smiled, the way that warmed her inside and made her glad she had so few shifts with the Martian. "You know that, too."

"You ever think about having kids? Other than Rex."

"Sure. I suppose. I mean, not right now. The boys are going to need a lot of care, and I wouldn't want them to think they were getting replaced with a new baby as soon as they got settled in." He yawned. "Maybe a couple of years down the road."

"But you do someday, right?"

"I guess so. Once I met Rex, I stopped really thinking about it, and starting thinking about him."

"Remind me. When did you have your future trip?"

He shrugged. "Week after Shayera rejoined the team."

And see, Mari had a lot of reasons to be glad she wasn't working with a psychic all the time. She'd probably drive him crazy with the thoughts she had, like the fast and not especially hard math to tell her she'd been dating John for about a month when Shayera had come back. So that made what? Five weeks into her relationship with him, and he'd seen something to make him stop thinking about maybe having kids with her, and start thinking about a son he was going to have with Shayera.

She wanted to tell him all these crazy thoughts, wanted to drag out of him a "yes" or "no" on so many things it made her head spin.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I hate time travel."

"We all do," he consoled.

_Not the way I do right now,_ she thought at him.

"I'd think you'd be happier about this," he said. "Now we've got a couple of kids, you didn't have to go through childbirth or worry about losing your figure." She glared at him. "Not that you would," he hastily amended. "You'd be gorgeous pregnant, all round and pretty and ... I should have shut up about thirty seconds ago, shouldn't I?"

"You really should have."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Just leave the modeling stuff to me, all right? You're not very good at it."

"That's fair." He smiled again. Her heart ached.

"You know, Flash seems to like the kids a lot. Maybe you should marry him instead." She added a chuckle to make him think she was kidding.

"Mari."

_Come on, tell me it doesn't matter. Tell me you're past all the rest of that crap now. Tell me you love these kids, fine, but that you wouldn't mind one or two more, and for God's sake, tell me you want me to be their mom, not just the stepmom to a couple of kids you never had._

_Please, John. Tell me._

"Are you okay?" he asked her, leaning over enough to take her hand. "What's wrong?"

_I want you to be psychic right now. Tell me the things I need to hear._

"Mari?"

"It's nothing," she said, allowing him to pull her from the chair back to the bed, where he continued to hold her hands. "Just. I'm not moving off-world."

"I don't want to move off-world either. You have to know it's always a possibility, though. The Guardians send us where we're needed."

She nodded. "I understand."

"But I'm not moving, not that far. I like it here, and anyway, the kids need to be near Shayera."

_Not: "I wouldn't want to ask you to come away from Earth." Not: "I know you've got a life here, a career, your home." Not: "I want to stay here with you."_

"Of course," she said, and laughed lightly. She'd practiced this laugh in a mirror, back before she was a name, when she had to fight for work. "I shouldn't have worried." She forced a smile on her face as he drew her back to his chest for a kiss, and she kept it pasted on as she let him tug away her towel so his hands could travel down her body.

Just because it was "good-bye" didn't mean it had to be bad.

* * *

"You're pissed at me." Hall tried not to sound too upset, tried to keep his voice light, jovial, even.

"I'm not." Shayera continued to stare out the car window. It had started to rain, so she couldn't see anything. She was just ignoring him.

"Sure you're not. You've said maybe ten words to me since we left Wayne's place."

"I'm not feeling chatty tonight." More staring.

He wasn't insecure. He knew he wasn't insecure. Hall had no problems being seen in public with Shayera. When she got that "fight or flight" look in her eyes, he made a point of grabbing her hand and dancing her around until she laughed; every time, he tried to think up new ways to tell her people just stared because they couldn't figure out what such a gorgeous woman was doing with a gargoyle like him.

Hall was even okay with the fact that she still worked closely every day with her ex. He knew there was some unresolved stuff between them. He'd been through a couple of bad breakups in his youth, and none of _his_ had been under public scrutiny or involved the safety of the planet. He had all the slack in the world to cut her. He knew he was the one she went out with, the one she came home with, the one she was eventually going to admit she loved. Lantern could keep his supermodel; Hall had the real thing and knew it.

So he could ignore the squirming in his guts, the feeling that said her thoughts were on her ex right now.

He could.

"Etruscan hemidrachm for your thoughts."

"Idiot," she said, not unkindly, and she did smile. "Thinking about the boys. Wondering what possessed the other me to have not one but two half-human babies."

"Condom malfunction," he said, realizing a second too late this might not have been the best comment.

"Maybe. I could see one by accident. I mean, I didn't know until just now that it was possible." She glanced at him. "But by the second one ... "

"Guess they liked Rex so much they wanted another." _God knows why. Kid's a freak._

"I guess."

"But you know," he said, slowing down a little to be more mindful of the slick road, "since it _is_ possible, maybe we could start thinking ... "

"Thinking about what?"

"You know. Couple, three kids, your brains, my good looks." He polished his fingernails on his shirt.

"So you're dooming them from birth."

"Could be fun," he said. And yes, since it was apparently possible, they'd just been damned lucky so far. He wondered if that was part of the reason she was so withdrawn tonight.

"No. It wouldn't. They'd cry and scream, and want to be held and changed, and they'd be messy, and I'd have to quit the League, and I couldn't go on expeditions with you, and there is nothing good about any of it." She kept staring into the rain.

That was unexpected. "You don't want kids?"

"Can we talk about something else? Or can we just not talk?"

"All right, all right. Not saying another word. Me? Strong silent type from here on out. Not a peep. Zip. Zilch. Nada."

"Carter."

He shut up. She was in a mood. He could ask her about it in the morning.

Ten miles later, she demanded, "And what do you mean, your good looks?"

"It was a joke, hon."

"You want children."

He thought about it for a few seconds. "Yes."

"With me."

"You're the only current candidate."

"Fine. Mental exercise time. Tell me what our kids would look like."

"You just said you didn't want any." _Besides, I figured we'd have to adopt._

"Tell me."

"Fine." Had he not been driving, Hall would have closed his eyes. Instead, he tried to keep an eye on the road and also form a picture in his head. Child. His and Shayera's.

"She'd look like you. Happy?"

"Describe her."

"A cute little green-eyed redhead. I'll have to lock her in the house until she's thirty just to keep the boys away."

"What else?"

"She's smart. Maybe not Batman-smart, but you know, smarter than the rest of the kids in the class."

Shayera was quiet for a long time. "What about her wings?"

Hall shrugged. "Doesn't have any. I mean, Rex doesn't either, right? That's what she gets from me."

"Rex's wings were amputated when he was a baby."

"Oh." He wasn't sure how to respond.

"This little girl in your head. If she was born without legs, you'd be okay with that?"

The mental image was immediate, and painful. "It's a risk everyone takes, even in the same species. I've got this one cousin ... "

"Carter, I'm not a human with some wings tacked on. I'm a Thanagarian."

"I know that, hon."

"Stop the car."

He found a shoulder and pulled over. She opened the door. "Where are you going?"

"I need to clear my head."

"It's dark out, it's raining, and we're in the middle of nowhere."

"I'll get a beam."

"Get back in the car, Shay."

"I'll call you later." She shut the door and walked away. As he opened his own door to go after her, she touched her ear and said something, and she was gone.

Hall looked at the spot where she'd stood, then punched the top of the car.

* * *

Shayera watched the interior of the Watchtower materialize around her. The tech on duty nodded to her from the controls. She smiled back.

"Hey, Fred. Who's on duty tonight?"

"Gypsy, Vibe and Elongated Man."

"Thanks. Any noise?"

"Not too much," the tech said, and with a wave, went back to his station. Shayera tapped her leg. She hadn't lied. She did want to clear her head. She thought about getting in a workout in the gym. Pummeling a few practice robots might be just what she needed.

An hour later, she was hotter, sweatier, and in no better mood than when she'd started. She headed for the showers, and almost ran head-first into Diana.

"Thought you'd be home now," Shayera said.

Diana replied, "I thought you and Carter left together."

"We did. You know, I used to argue with you when you said all those bad things about men. But you were right."

"No, I was sheltered."

They stood looking at each other for several long seconds. Were they different people, Shayera would have asked Diana to the mess, and they might have gossiped over drinks or ice cream, bitching about guys and enjoying each other's company.

Instead, Shayera asked, "Wanna spar?"

"Weapons or hand to hand?"

"Your call."

Diana opted for hand to hand, and they faced off. _This_ was the workout she'd needed, against an opponent who could think and strategize, and also who could hit really _really_ hard.

Shayera kicked Diana's knee out and landed atop her, pining her shoulders. "My point."

Diana jabbed her in the sternum with an elbow, knocking the wind from her, before a follow-up punch set her sprawling. She recovered, gathered her wits, then leapt into the air and came down with legs extended. Diana ducked, then thrust off, and the mid-air combat began in earnest.

Shayera was winded, but happy.

"Tell me something," Diana said, grabbing her from behind and pinning her arms.

Shayera buffeted Diana with her wings enough to get leverage, then smacked her with the back of her head. "Go ahead."

"John's completely in love with those kids." A punch, easily dodged. "He's pulling as many strings as Bruce can find to get custody." Knee-strike, painful but recoverable. "I'd be surprised if he hasn't already started painting their bedroom." Fists locked, against her forearm, and she landed hard.

"Ow. And?"

Diana landed beside her, waited until Shayera had rubbed some feeling back into her arm. "You're doing anything you can to be anywhere else."

"They're not my kids, Diana."

"I know. You ready, or are we done?"

"I'm ready. Unless you're getting tired."

Diana smirked and got back into position.

The blows were faster this time, and Shayera found herself parrying more than attacking. Her fingers longed for the feel of her mace, for the firm crack of Nth metal hitting flesh and bone. She kicked out wildly, was unsurprised when Diana grabbed her leg and threw her flat onto her butt.

"You should take a break," Diana said. "That was amateur."

Shayera stuck out her tongue, but took the opportunity anyway. There was water in a cooler at the corner of the gym. She tossed Diana a bottle and drank her own thirstily.

"I had a goldfish," Shayera said.

"What?"

"Before. Back in the old days. I had a place. I got a bowl and put a goldfish in it." She'd never really tried to assimilate in Earth culture, but there had been a few times she'd experimented with it. A few sets of clothes she'd seen human women wearing. Watching television in the old Watchtower, while Flash tried to impress her with his knowledge of old programs. And a pet. "It died after a few days. I fed it, but it died."

"It was a goldfish. As far as I can tell, they all die."

"Not my point." She finished her water. "I screw up things when I touch them. I hurt people when I care about them. You know that. Sometimes I think you're the only one on the team who's honest enough to say it."

Diana shrugged. "Not going to argue with you."

"Diana, I shouldn't be allowed to have a houseplant. I spend any more time than necessary around those kids, around _any_ kids, and I'll hurt them. I might not mean to, might not want to, but it'll happen. The best thing I can do for them is get them set up with John, and then leave them the hell alone."

"So you're scared." Diana took both bottles and threw them into the recycling can.

"I'm not scared. I'm practical. I can't do this. I shouldn't do this. And I'm smart enough to know it."

"Maybe this time it's not about you." Before Shayera could come back with anything good, Diana asked, "Ready?"

She nodded, and they took position again. She struck first, aiming for chest, shoulders, knees. Diana blocked each blow, refreshed from her break. _Shouldn't have let her sit down._

An uppercut, probably harder than Diana had intended, knocked Shayera's teeth solidly together and sent dark spots in front of her eyes. She fell, shaking her head. "I give. We're done."

"You okay?"

She stretched her jaw, probed with her tongue to ensure all her teeth were still in the right places. "I will be."

"Shower. You'll feel better."

Shayera made an audible sniff at Diana. "You too. _Everyone_ will feel better."

Diana snorted, and followed her to the locker room.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

The Stolen Child (4/4)  
a Justice League story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-13

* * *

Part Four

* * *

Bruce knew it was a dream because he was happy. Things were happening around him, strange events with airports and sticky pink currency and an old bottle of wine, but none of it mattered, only the feelings of warmth and joy did. 

The woman in his dream, dark-haired and lovely, shook his shoulder. "Master Bruce, it's time to wake up." Her face morphed into Alfred's, and considering what they'd been doing in the airport lounge, Bruce was lucky he didn't scream.

A millisecond later, he was fully awake.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir. I know it was a late night. However, Mrs. Waller is in the front hall."

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at his clock. Nine a.m., so he'd had two and a half hours of sleep. He'd gotten by on much less.

Bruce pulled on his robe and slippers, then went to the top of the stairs.

"Mrs. Waller," he said neutrally, walking down. "Is this a social call?"

"What do you think, Wayne?"

"I've readied the study," said Alfred. "This way, ma'am." He led her in and Bruce followed.

Tea had magically appeared. Alfred was always fast on his feet but this was a new record. As soon as the door closed, Bruce indicated a chair.

"I thought you'd be in church this morning." Bruce poured out two cups of tea and handed one to Waller.

"So did I," she answered, accepting the cup. "My network is getting slow. I didn't find out until an hour ago."

"Find out what?" Bruce took a sip of his tea. Alfred had made it strong.

"You've got a new child in your care. Tell me about him."

_Child. Singular._ "I think I'd be more interested in what you think you know."

"His name's Rex. No middle name given, no last name given. According to the head of Gotham Social Services, you managed to get temporary custody by claiming to know the boy's parents, who are now dead."

"Sounds right."

"So who _were_ his parents? And what's his last name?"

"Old friends of mine and none of your business."

"He's got scars all over his body, old ones, and two prominent ones at his shoulders. Your friends weren't very good parents."

"They did their best." He hadn't called Leslie to ask her to examine the boys yet. He made a note to do so as soon as Waller left.

"Metamorpho, real name Rex Mason, is an old friend of Green Lantern's, isn't he?"

"I think they served together." His respect for her edged up several notches. He'd made the connection, of course, but he'd had far more information.

"I saw a picture of the boy. He's got her eyes. How long was she gone before she rejoined the League?"

"Shayera's not his mother." This was a true statement.

"He's not human, not entirely. I don't really care _who_ his parents were, except for that fact. Is he dangerous?"

"No." He thought he might manage additional subterfuge, but he also thought Waller would make a more valuable ally than enemy. "No special powers, no secret agenda. He's a six year old boy."

"And an alien."

"And that," he said.

"Are you planning on making him the next Robin?"

"No."

"Good. How _is_ Robin?" She sipped her tea.

"He'll be fine. What do you want?"

"Transparency. If I'm supposed to be a proper liaison between the League and the government, I need to know about undocumented aliens and metahumans. It's the only way I can do my job."

"He's just a child. That's all."

"Is Lantern his father?"

"Not yet." But in the future, Rex would call him "Dad," and that meant everything to John. "He wants to adopt him. We've been trying to get the paperwork together."

"Forged, you mean."

"Whatever it takes. I think we both know he needs better care than the state can provide for him." He met her eyes. She watched him, and he could see the gears turning in her head. Had they met as friends, back at the beginning, she might have helped him rewrite the world.

"I'll see what I can arrange," Waller said finally. "No reason to take this out of the family. So to speak." She drained her cup. "Your butler makes good tea."

"I've always thought so."

"I'll see myself out. I might make a late service if I leave now." He walked with her to the door anyway, and said a quiet good-bye.

At the edge of his hearing, he'd noticed a strange sound, like a trapped sparrow, chirping to get free from a distant chimney. He tied his robe tighter and hurried up the stairs. The noise was coming from Tim's room.

He banged on the door. "Are you all right?"

The door opened and Tim dragged him inside. Rex was huddled in a far corner of the room, wide-eyed and terrified, whistling and hooting and unresponsive to Bruce's gentle shaking.

"We watched Waller come in," said Tim. "He's been in here since, making that noise. It's Thanagarian, isn't it?"

"Probably. Watch him." Bruce cursed the fact that he'd stopped wearing his ear communicator months ago, as he ran down to the Cave to call Shayera.

_Tim just let me into his room._ Bruce filed that away for later.

* * *

Alfred tucked the blanket in tighter around the child. He'd stopped shuddering, stopped making those dreadful sounds, and was nursing a mug of cocoa in the dining room. 

Miss Hol looked at Master Bruce. "Can you tell me what he was saying?"

"Not my language, sorry."

"Rex?"

"It was nothing." Not once in his many years of raising boys had Alfred accepted "nothing" as an answer. He suspected it was not to be the case here, either.

"I'll continue searching for the other lad, shall I?"

"No," said Bruce. "He'll come out when he's ready. Give him some time alone."

"Yes, sir."

Miss Hol sat beside the boy. "Tim said it was Waller." Rex quivered. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he whispered, sliding deeper into the blanket.

Bruce sat to the boy's other side. Alfred decided to stay. All things considered, neither of the other adults present had his experience with children. He could excuse himself when the master's other acquaintances from the League arrived.

"Rex," said Bruce, in what Alfred was sure he believed was a reassuring tone rather than a frightening one, "you need to tell us what you know."

"Sir," said Alfred. "May I make an attempt?"

"Of course."

Alfred knelt beside the boy. "Is the cocoa satisfactory?" Rex nodded, watching him warily. "Do you need anything? Another blanket?" Head shake, negative. "We could attempt to locate your brother and bring him here."

"No," he said in a tiny voice.

"You should know, I've raised a number of young men."

"Three," said Master Bruce.

"'Three' is a number, sir," Alfred reminded him. "It has been my experience that when something troubled one of them, telling someone, often myself, was the first step to finding a solution. I believe you have met Mrs. Waller's counterpart in your universe. In ours, she is an acquaintance. May I ask what she was to you?"

Another shudder. "She was bad." Alfred flickered his gaze to Master Bruce, who watched the child intently. Alfred had no doubt he was pondering his own journey to the boy's home universe, and debating the relative merits of "good" and "bad" as seen through the eyes of the Justice Lords' offspring.

"Indeed," said Alfred. "May I ask why she was bad?"

"No." Then he chirped something.

Miss Hol's eyes widened. "Watch your language, kid."

"That's what you called her. What Mom called her, I mean."

"Translation?" asked Master Bruce.

"Don't ask," said Miss Hol. "Why did she call Waller that?"

"Cadmus. She ran Cadmus."

"Here too," said Miss Hol.

"They were the ones who chased us. All the time. We had to stay hidden. Sometimes I hid with Dad, sometimes with Mom. We weren't together a lot. Too easily seen."

Alfred touched his hands. "I assure you, Cadmus no longer exists here. You will not be chased. You are safe."

He shuddered again. "No. No. Not from Cadmus. They'll find me. They always find me, and they'll take me again."

"Again?"

Mr. Stewart arrived five minutes later; he had been by early that morning, but had been called away for an emergency. Alfred felt it unwise to comment on Ms. Macabe's absence either then or now. Mr. West dashed through the door before it had even swung closed. Ten minutes after that, Princess Diana arrived, and half an hour later, speaking their apologies, Mr. Kent and Mr. J'onzz had come in through the back entrance. As they entered, Master Bruce explained what each had missed from the discussion. Miss Hol remained beside the boy, asking him questions.

Alfred took the opportunity to make a thorough search for their other guest. It was just as well to be out of the room, seeing the sick looks on so many powerful faces. He did not blame them.

Apparently, Mr. Hall's counterpart had been watching the lad when their universe's Cadmus had located them. Mr. Hall had been killed, rather messily by the boy's account, and the child taken into Cadmus custody.

There had been experiments. The expression on Mr. J'onzz's face at that revelation had been enough to frighten Alfred from the room.

Rex was unsure of the duration of his stay, nor even of his age at the time. Alfred's rough math put him at about four years old through most of the ordeal. He had been housed with many of the other children raised by their Cadmus, knew both Galatea and Ace as close friends. When Master Bruce told him of Ace's passing in this universe, he'd gone still and quiet and then asked politely to be allowed to see her grave at a later point, to which Master Bruce agreed.

Alfred looked under the couches with no success. The curtains yielded no small boy, nor did a complete tossing of their bedroom. He sighed. Wayne Manor had more hiding places than was strictly necessary, he thought.

He wondered if perhaps Miss Hol would not be a better person to search. Carter's fierce attachment to his mother was now easily understandable: Mr. Stewart's counterpart had died freeing his elder son, and Carter could have been no more than three at the time. He would have few or no memories at all of his father.

A bad situation all around, Alfred thought. He had no pity in his heart for the Justice Lords. They had become dictators on their world, would have done the same to his own. There was no doubt that they'd made their own beds in the matter.

It was simply a shame they'd had to share those accommodations.

* * *

Shayera asked Carter if he wanted more flying lessons while Bruce's doctor friend examined Rex, but he stayed close to his brother, quiet and interested as the doctor checked every scar, took his temperature and pulse and everything else. When the doctor pronounced Rex the healthiest human/Thanagarian hybrid she'd ever met and turned to Carter, the interest turned to fear, and Shayera found herself struggling with an armful of terrified preschooler. 

"No doctors," said Carter in English. He said a number of other things in Thanagarian, and again she marveled at the language her counterpart must have used around the children.

"It's all right, Carter," said the doctor kindly. "It won't hurt at all."

"No!" he shouted, and he broke free from Shayera's grasp with a sudden burst and flew.

Shayera sighed and followed him into the front hall. "Come on, Carter. You've got to stop hiding like this." Funny. It was getting easier to think of the name "Carter" as the name of John's son, and not as the name of the man she wasn't going to be dating any more.

Despite the fact that she'd been right behind him, she couldn't find him anywhere, and he didn't come out until after Dr. Thompkins had left.

* * *

In the Cave, Carter mirrored Shayera's flight patterns perfectly, even the most complex ones, while Rex watched from below. "You're good," she said, landing lightly. He touched down beside her, an ear-to-ear grin on his face. _He smiles so much more easily than Rex does. Cadmus has so much to answer for._

"Can we do it again?"

"Not now. I'm an old lady and need my rest. Your mother teach you those moves?"

"Yep," said Carter.

"Good for her." Something tickled at the back of her thoughts, something important.

Carter asked, "Can we go up and have a snack? Please?"

"It's almost dinnertime. I don't think Alfred would like that."

"Fine," said Carter, crestfallen.

"Unless of course you'd want to eat the snack in the dining room with the rest of us."

"We'll wait," Rex said.

She wondered if they'd withheld food from him, if they'd used food to drug him, to hurt him. She wondered how many of them John's double had taken out with him and she knew it wasn't nearly enough.

* * *

Tim ate his dinner in silence. He could hear the kids talking next door. There was an occasional laugh — that would be Carter — amid the general chatter. He'd thought it would be annoying, like having a too-noisy neighbor. Instead, he found that he missed them when they wandered the rest of the Manor. 

Tim didn't go out of his room. Ever.

He'd tried, a few times. His first sessions with Doctor Nichols had been in Bruce's study. Then one day he'd discovered that he couldn't step out of the room to go talk with the doctor, so the doctor had come up to talk with him.

He was safe here. He didn't have to be anyone here except a teenaged boy with questionable taste in music and video games. Alfred brought food, and Babs brought conversation, and Dick brought games and friendship, and Bruce brought nothing at all.

He hadn't even thought about it this morning, dragging Bruce into his room like that. A child was in danger. That had been the only thing that'd mattered.

Now he looked around the room, listening to the voices from the bedroom next door, and for the first time in months, he wanted to go out of his room. To go one over, he thought giddily. That was all. Not downstairs. Not to the Cave. Just next door.

He opened his door, went to the threshold. Couldn't cross it.

Tim stood there, trying not to cry. He was too old to cry, dammit. He was ...

The boys' door opened. "Hi, Tim," said Carter. "Can we come over and play?"

"Sure," he said. "Come on in." He stood aside, let them come into his room. Maybe importing company was the next best thing, for now.

As they always did, the kids sat at the foot of his bed. Rex took a controller and handed Tim the other. Carter sat and watched, chatting amicably until Tim kind of wished he'd shut up. Rex made better company anyway. He wasn't always so damned cheerful.

" ... and Mr. Wayne says this Uncle Clark has a zoo ... "

Tim veered his robot out of the way of Rex's lasers, not quite in time. Rex wasn't nearly so distracting, either.

"Carter," Tim said, "will you go downstairs and ask Alfred if we can have something to drink?"

"I'll go with you," said Rex, putting down his controller.

"Carter's big enough to go by himself. Aren't you?" He blasted a drone out of the way and then paused the game.

"Not yet he's not," Rex said, grabbing his brother's hand. Before Tim could stop them, they'd gone.

He'd call them both freaks, but all things considered, he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on.

* * *

Monday morning dawned cool and grey. Alfred opened the curtains as was his wont, brought in the paper, did his morning dusting, cooked breakfast for the members of the household he expected to be awake, and contacted the cook and maids to inform them their services would not be required for tomorrow, but that they were to enjoy their paid vacation. 

He set a tray outside Tim's room, and another outside the boys' room, tapping lightly on both doors. He'd heard Master Timothy's water running twenty minutes before.

The young lads' door opened first. Rex peered out. "Morning, Alfred."

"Good morning, young sir. Per your request, I have not brought you any eggs this morning. I do hope waffles are acceptable fare."

"Sounds great, Alfred," said Master Timothy. Alfred's eyes widened. Tim sat on the floor in the boys' bedroom. A half-finished game of checkers sat before him.

"Tim, can we eat alone, please?" Carter asked politely.

"Sure." Tim slid nimbly to his feet. "Back in a few. And I know where all the checkers are, Rex." Carter giggled.

Tim walked past an astonished Alfred to his own door, picking up the tray as he did. "I'll be in my room."

"Of course, sir," Alfred said, still not quite believing his eyes. Both doors closed at the same time. Bemused, Alfred went to call Miss Gordon, who had worked out of her own apartment the past two nights, to share the news.

* * *

Bruce pulled himself from bed at ten, hours earlier than he would have liked, to ready himself for a lunch meeting with the heads of R&D and Marketing. Alfred had already laid out fresh clothing for him by the time he exited the shower, and had left a large mug of coffee on a doily on his night stand. Bruce drank the coffee, shaved and dressed, and went down to the kitchen. 

"Good morning, sir," said Alfred, handing him a single waffle on a plate.

"Good morning, Alfred, and thank you, but I have ... "

"You will be better armed for your meeting with a small amount of breakfast in your stomach, sir. Also, I have discovered that these are magic waffles, and I should like to determine their effect on you."

"Magic waffles, Alfred?" Bruce smiled around a quick bite, careful not to drip syrup on his shirt.

"Yes, sir. They were powerful enough to lure Master Timothy from his den this morning." Alfred remained deadpan, but Bruce saw the happiness in his eyes. "I must say, the waffles themselves were probably not the actual agent of his departure. There was a game of checkers involved, as well."

"Fantastic." Bruce wolfed the last bite. "Where are the kids?"

"Mr. Stewart arrived first thing this morning and has taken them fishing in the north pond."

"There aren't any fish in the north pond."

"I did mention that, sir. I believe Mr. Stewart considers that an added feature to the experience."

"I don't suppose Tim went with them?"

"No, sir. He has returned to his room. However, I overheard the youngest Mr. Stewart extract a promise from him for another game later."

Bruce allowed himself a smile. "Good."

The doorbell chimed. Alfred hurried to the front hall, with Bruce strolling after him. He'd take the Bentley today, he decided. After the meeting, maybe he could invite himself into the checkers game too. God knew he needed to interact with Tim more. This might finally be the opportunity they'd been waiting ...

He didn't recognize the man and woman, didn't recognize the vehicle parked outside, did recognize the format and style of the papers they had just handed Alfred. He'd been mentally praising Question's expertise on similar documents just a few hours before, after all.

"Sir," said Alfred. "May I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell? Apparently they have been sent by Social Services."

"I'm sure they have, Alfred. How nice to meet you both." He shook their hands politely, as if he met people every day who unwittingly intended to destroy his world. The couple gazed around the front hall, awestruck, as Bruce made his excuses to go retrieve Rex.

The north pond wasn't far, but was fortunately out of sight of the main driveway. The Caldwells wouldn't have seen anything. Bruce was wearing good shoes, knew he'd have to change them for ones without grass stains before he went in to the office.

John's voice carried. "Now pull back slowly. You want to make the fly look like it's dancing over the water slow enough for the fish to grab it." Rex held the pole, face screwed up in concentration, as John guided his hands and arms. Carter sat atop the cooler John had brought, drumming his legs quietly against the side. Just another lazy spring day, with a dad and his boys out fishing. Bruce himself didn't have a single memory quite like this, suspected Rex and Carter didn't either, if they'd been on the run all their lives.

And now it was his job to ruin it.

"John."

John looked up. "Morning, Bruce. I didn't expect to see you up so ... "

"They're here."

"They?" Confusion turned to comprehension. He shut his eyes. "Dammit."

"Rex," Bruce said. "There are some people here who are going to take custody of you for a little while."

"No." Rex set down his pole.

"He's not going," said Carter. "We're staying here." He jumped off the cooler and hugged his brother.

"You can't," Bruce replied. "At least Rex can't. If we try to keep him, we could all go to jail."

"He's not going!" Carter shouted.

"Kids," John said. "It's temporary. I promise." He got to his knees and held Rex's shoulders. "We've got the paperwork ready. We'll have J'onn come get you as soon as we can.."

"No," Rex said again. "I don't want to go. Carter needs me."

"You can't make a scene," said Bruce, feeling awful. "We need them to think you're sad to leave but otherwise healthy. There can't be any questions."

"Or they won't let me come back."

"Yeah," John said.

"Okay." It was barely a whisper. Louder, he said, "Carter, you have to be good. Do you understand?"

"No." Carter scowled.

"Carter."

"Yes."

Rex gave him a hug and said, "I'm ready."

John said, "Carter, can you please stay here until I get back? You have to stay out of sight."

"John," Bruce warned, "you probably shouldn't be seen, either. They might recognize you."

"They won't." John indicated his old jeans and faded sweater, perfect for a day of rough and tumble with the kids, but hardly his normal uniform or even his typical attire while in public. Bruce suspected Vixen had something to do with the latter. "And if they do, you and I met at a fundraiser."

Bruce nodded. "Come on, then."

The three of them walked slowly back to the Manor, Rex holding tightly to John's hand. From little things he'd mentioned, Bruce guessed he'd been closest to his father back in their universe. Losing him would have been devastating.

The pain, the old pain, came back to Bruce but he shoved it away angrily. Now wasn't the time.

The front hall was empty. Alfred had relocated the Caldwells to the parlor. Both had cups of tea before them. Both stood as Bruce, John and Rex came into the room.

"Hello, Rex," said Mrs. Caldwell, getting down on her knees to his level. "I'm Annie. This is Joe."

"Hi." He stayed clinging against John.

Mr. Caldwell smiled at him. "You're going to come live with us. We've got a little boy and little girl at home who'd love to meet you."

"Do I have to?"

"I'm afraid so," said Bruce.

Mr. Caldwell said, "I know you've had a lot of fun here with Mr. Wayne, but we have fun at our house, too."

"Can I come back to visit here?"

"Of course you can," said Mrs. Caldwell. "After you've settled in." She looked at Bruce. "If it's all right with you, Mr. Wayne."

"Call and Alfred can pick him up within the hour."

"Good," Rex said.

John said, "I'll go up with you to get your things."

"Okay." They went upstairs together. Bruce hoped Lantern didn't do something stupid. There wasn't much chance of that, but as far as John was concerned, they were about to take away his child. People did extraordinary things in those situations. Bruce had almost killed the Joker for it.

Despite his concern, John and Rex returned within a few minutes. A small bundle was in Rex's arms: the clothes he'd worn upon his arrival.

"Is there anything we should know about him?" Mr. Caldwell asked Bruce. Bruce turned to John.

John shrugged. "Keep him clean, keep him fed, he's happy. And let him eat in his room."

"We'll discuss that," said Mrs. Caldwell, taking Rex's hand away from John. Rex scowled at her.

Mr. Caldwell said, "Mr. Wayne, thank you for taking such good care of him. We'll make sure he keeps in touch. Rex, you need to say good-bye to Mr. Wayne and his staff now."

John's jaw tightened. He looked at Bruce and said quietly, "Told you." To Rex he said, "We'll see you soon, son … ny boy. Kid. Rex."

Unexpectedly, Rex smiled. "Okay." Then he pulled his hand free from Mrs. Caldwell and hugged John's leg. Bruce guessed the hug was as calculated as it had been when Rex had embraced him at the Social Services office, but there was a reluctance as he pulled away that told Bruce maybe John was getting through to him, just a little. "See you soon," Rex hesitated, "sir."

They watched from the windows as the Caldwells loaded Rex into their sedan and drove away. John cleared his throat, then without a word, headed back towards the north pond.

A few minutes later, Lantern flew back. "Did Carter come back into the house?" he asked Alfred.

"I did not see him, sir. It is possible the lad is hiding again."

John swore. "We have _got_ to get that kid to stop hiding all the time."

Bruce finished adjusting his tie in the reflection of the clock. "Keep looking. I'll be back from my meeting in a few hours."

The clock moved, and Bruce stepped out of the way just as Shayera emerged from the Cave. "Hey." She looked around, saw their faces, and asked, "Where are the kids?"

* * *

When Bruce returned from his meeting, Carter still hadn't been found. Tim was firmly ensconced in his room and would only say no, Carter wasn't with him. John had scanned the area with his ring, Alfred had looked in all the secret hiding places he could remember from Bruce's childhood, and Shayera had searched all the trees on the property in case he was perching up high. 

This was troublesome.

He called Clark, knowing x-ray vision could be useful had Carter trapped himself in a crevasse somewhere and gotten stuck. Unfortunately, Kent was in meetings for the remainder of the afternoon and wouldn't be able to come until later. Bruce called the rest, explained the situation, and was met with both a shared frustration and promises of help. Diana came right over, as did Flash. Diana took a hard look at the nearby coastline and touched her ear to call Arthur. Bruce didn't stop her.

They reconvened at five with not so much as a sign of him.

"Perhaps he ran away," J'onn suggested.

"I told him to stay where he was," John said.

"By the pond?" Shayera asked. "Are you crazy? You never leave a little kid alone near water."

"So _now_ you're interested in parenting them?"

"I just don't want you drowning them before they've been here a week."

"I checked the pond twice. He didn't drown." John glanced at Arthur, who shook his head. Nothing at the shore either, then.

"Have you checked the security tapes?" The voice came from the top of the stairs. Tim stood just outside his door, both hands on the doorframe.

_Don't frighten him,_ Bruce told himself. "Not yet." He hadn't considered it; prior to now, Carter had been hiding indoors, where there very specifically were no cameras. "I'll be in the Cave. Keep looking, and tell Clark to do an aerial search first when he gets here."

Bruce had already searched the Cave to his own satisfaction. He went straight to the bank of recorders which kept the outer property monitored and ejected the tape for the camera overlooking the north pond. If he could see what direction the boy had headed after they'd left him, maybe he could hypothesize where he'd gone.

He rewound the tape to the point just before he'd come to tell John the Caldwells had arrived, and watched the next few minutes of tape. Then he watched them again. Again.

Bruce got up from his chair, walked back to the recorders. Alfred used twelve hour tapes in each, changed them religiously, and kept them for a two week period. Bruce selected another tape.

* * *

'Waller here." 

"It's me."

"Twice in as many days. People will say we're in love."

"I need some files from you." He told her which ones. "It's regarding the project we discussed yesterday morning."

"I suspect you don't want them delivered at home. Metropolis Watchtower close enough?"

"It'll have to be."

* * *

He knocked on Tim's door. 

"What?"

"It's me." Tim didn't answer. "Can I come in?"

"It's your house."

Bruce opened the door, stepped into Tim's sanctuary. Tim sat on his bed, leaning against piled pillows.

"Find him yet?"

"No." So many things they needed to say to each other. So many words Bruce didn't have. "I need to ask you something. About the boys."

* * *

Wally went with J'onn. He didn't really want to go, wanted to stay and keep looking since he could search faster than anyone else, even after nightfall, but since Supes hadn't seen anything resembling Carter for miles, he guessed there was no point in staying. Also, he didn't have a famous face. Bats had thrown a dark wig on him anyway, just to be safe. On the drive over, he kept telling himself: "Your name is Albert Jones," just as he'd been instructed. 

J'onn was a woman, not for the first time. Batman had shown him a photo of someone and J'onn had assumed her shape and clothing, and now "she" was sitting beside him as Wally drove, follow the signal from the little tracking device Bats had placed in Rex's pile of clothes.

Bats was a suspicious bastard, really.

Wally couldn't blame him, not in this. Wally had spent too much of his youth being bounced between the Central City Orphanage and half a dozen foster homes. He hadn't been trouble, not really, but he'd always been so _active_, even before his powers, and not many people had been able to handle that.

"The directions actually include 'Turn off the paved road.' Oh, man." Wally made the turn, looking out the windshield for house numbers in the dark.

J'onn pointed. "Over there."

"I thought you couldn't sense Rex."

"I'm not sensing him. Hurry." Wally sped up, screeching a little on the gravel as he turned into the driveway. All the lights were on in the house, and he could hear screaming.

"I'm not dressed for this," he warned J'onn.

"Go carefully. I think we will not need our 'game faces,' as you're thinking."

They went to the front door, J'onn in the lead with Question's forgeries under his arm. He rang the doorbell. Thirty seconds passed, and then a woman came to the door.

"Yes? What is it?" Her eyes were wide and scared, and her voice had a "Please ignore the screaming in the background" quality.

"Mrs. Caldwell, I'm Ms. Fowler from Social Services. I believe we've met."

"Oh. Yes. Hello. Can you please give me just a minute?" The door slammed shut. Wally heard a harsh whisper from inside: "For the love of God, be quiet!"

There was another scream.

"Still sure everyone's okay?" Wally asked J'onn.

"Wait."

The door opened again. "I'm sorry, Ms. Fowler. The house is a bit of a mess tonight. Our new boy has been a handful." Wally covered his grin. "Could you maybe come back later?"

"I'm afraid not. There's been a mistake. I need to take Rex back with me. He's going to be adopted." J'onn rolled his eyes. "There was a paperwork snafu. You understand."

"That can't be right," said Mrs. Caldwell.

"I'm afraid it is," said Wally. J'onn handed over the cover letter, with explanations and seals. Bats had assured them they'd have the real ones in place within forty-eight hours, if Waller held good to her word.

"This really isn't the best time," she said again. There was the sound of something shattering. "Honey, are you okay?" she called.

"I knocked over the lamp," came a man's voice, equally strained.

"Excuse me. What on Earth is going on?" J'onn pushed past her, forcing the door open. The living room was in shambles. In the dining room, a man held two children behind him, neither of them Rex, while brandishing what looked like an iron poker from a fireplace ...

... At Carter.

He flapped his wings happily in front of them, making faces, poking his fingers towards the man's eyes, and baring his teeth every time the man moved. The guy looked like he was both trying to hit him and trying not to be touched by him.

J'onn glanced at Wally; Wally caught the sigh, and also the nod. Wally stepped back and, as soon as he was out the door, sped to the other side of the house. Rex dropped from the window to the ground. When he saw him, he jumped back and growled.

"It's me," Wally said. "What the hell are you and Carter doing!"

"I'm leaving. He's distracting. Come on."

"Uh uh." Wally grabbed him and dragged him back to the front of the house, where he thrust him through the front door. Carter turned, saw Rex, and flew out of the room.

Mrs. Caldwell dashed to her family and clutched at her children. Her husband twitched, pointing the poker at J'onn, Wally and Rex.

"That ... That ... It came out of nowhere," he gasped.

"What did?" asked J'onn. Everyone in the room stared at him.

_Play along,_ J'onn said in his head.

"You saw it," said Mrs. Caldwell. "Tell me you saw it."

Wally said, "I saw a dude waving a poker around in the air. Found this boy trying to get out the back. He says he's terrified of your husband there and I don't blame him."

Rex pressed against him. "Can we please go?"

J'onn touched his head. "Of course we can. Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell, I can assure you, you will be hearing from my office about this." Before they could answer, he shushed Wally and Rex out and closed the door.

"What now?" asked Wally.

"Now we leave," J'onn said. "Quickly."

"What about Carter?"

Rex said, "He'll meet us at the end of the road." They buckled him in, then Wally pulled out of the driveway. The Caldwells were looking out their living room window at them as they left, Mr. Caldwell still holding the poker.

At the end of the road, where the gravel ended and the asphalt started, Wally pulled over. The door opened and Carter got in, buckling himself in quickly. Wally got back onto the road.

A mile later, he glanced into the rear view mirror. "That really wasn't very nice, boys. You scared them."

"That was the idea," said Rex. Carter had sat in the middle, so he was next to his brother. He lay his head on Rex's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Wally decided it could wait. He could let John give the lecture. _It'll probably make his day._

J'onn shapeshifted back to his normal form. Well, normal for when he was hanging out on Earth, anyway. "I will tell the others we have retrieved both children." His eyes went bright red, and then faded. He turned his head and silently watched the children in the backseat for the rest of the ride home.

* * *

The floodlights came on as Wally pulled into the parking circle at Bruce's place. He couldn't remember ever seeing them lit before; he supposed the others were still out looking. Except that didn't make any sense. J'onn had told them as soon as they got back into the car, hadn't he? 

Wally shook his head, then got out and helped the boys out of the car. Alfred met them inside, gravely greeting Rex and taking his pile of clothes to tote upstairs, Wally guessed.

"In the dining room," J'onn said.

The others had gathered already, sitting in costume like they did in council. Wally felt underdressed. Batgirl and Nightwing were there, too, and he guessed Bats had pulled in everyone he could trust for the hunt. Funny, though; for people who'd spent half the day worried that Carter was dead, they didn't look relieved to see him. Even Tim looked more solemn than usual.

_Wait. What the hell?_

Wally said, "Um. We're home." He tried not to stare at Tim, who was the only other one besides Alfred who wasn't in costume.

"Are you all right?" John asked. Both boys nodded. "Good."

Tim got out of his chair and knelt down in front of Rex. "Hey."

"Hey," said Rex. J'onn took Wally's arm gently and steered him to a chair.

Tim said, "You and I have something in common, you know that?" Rex shook his head no. "About a year ago, I was captured by the Joker. He held me. He hurt me, a lot."

_I don't want to be hearing this._ Wally looked for a way out, any way out.

"He did things to me. Bad things. Three weeks, and I couldn't get away. I tried. But I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't escape. The only place I could go was inside my head. So I did.

"I built a place inside me, a place that he couldn't get to. I put everything of me that was good, that was happy, everything that I wanted to keep safe, inside the box. It was where I put," he paused, "where I put Robin."

"Robin?"

"Yeah. That's who I used to be. Caped crusader, crime fighter, defender of the weak. That was me. And I put him in a place where the Joker couldn't reach him.

"I thought."

Batgirl bit her lip and Wally thought she might jump up and hug Tim, but she stayed seated.

"He got in," Tim said in a cold, bitter tone. "Somehow, that bastard got in there too." He looked like he was fighting off tears, and man, Wally had never wanted to be anywhere else more in his whole life. The rest watched Tim and Rex, not saying anything.

Wally thought he might be the only sane one present just now, the only one who was thinking it was really creepy to be having Tim's therapy in the dining room.

"I think that's when I went crazy," Tim continued. "I'm probably still there." He glanced at Alfred, then at Batgirl and Nightwing, and finally at Batman.

"The thing is, Robin's still there, too. He's not part of me anymore, because I made him not be part of me. I've got a shrink, and he's an idiot, but he's right on one thing. I can't keep Robin out forever. Even though it hurts. Even though, when I look inside him, I see that sick maniac laughing back at me. Robin's part of me. And I can't be in two pieces and live.

"No one can.

"Do you understand?"

Rex stared at him. Then he nodded.

"Rex, Carter has to go away now."

Carter looked at Rex, confused. Rex looked back at him, tilted his head in a funny sort of way, and blinked his eyes. And Carter vanished.

* * *

The glow of the computer screen barely illuminated the Cave as Bruce updated his records. 

_"Codename: Ace. Real Name: Ashley Andrews. Species: Metahuman. Sex: Female. Parents: Unknown (deceased). DOB: Unknown. Approximate age at time of death: seventeen. Powers: Ability to manipulate the minds of others to perceive things that were not real (sensory information to include five human senses). Abilities exhibited same effect on all known alien species resident to Earth. Abilities eventually included telekinesis and transformation of matter. Current Location: Deceased. Additional Notes: Subject died due to aneurysm caused by use of metahuman abilities. See CADMUS Project Code 'Royal Flush' for further information. _

"Item: Power disruptor. Designer: L. Luthor. Purpose: To interrupt the neuron flow in the body of a metahuman or alien. Duration: Permanent. Side Effects: Possible interference in fetal development, inconclusive. Known Quantity: 2. Current Location(s): Destroyed, remnants sealed in Fortress of Solitude. See Justice League File 'Justice Lords' for further information."

Bruce paused. He needed to make these additions, needed to ensure his own file system was as complete as possible. But the next entry could wait. Telling himself this was merely a long overdue and certainly well-deserved break, he saved his files, walked up the stairs, and up the stairs again. He tapped on Tim's door.

"Come in."

The room was almost as messy as ever. But the suitcase was new, and the items being folded and packed into it lacked the usual disarray of Tim's possessions.

"You don't have to leave."

"Yes. I do."

"You're finally coming out of your room. That doesn't mean you're ready to go outside."

"We've been through this," Tim said, packing another sweater. "Dick will be here in ten minutes."

"Stay for dinner. It'll make Alfred happy." _Stay forever. Please, Tim._

"I need to get out of here. I need to be ... somewhere else. Somewhere new." He tossed some underwear in on top of the folded clothes. "This place. It's going to kill me, Bruce. It's a tomb. It's been your tomb for thirty years. I have to leave."

Too much to say. Nothing that would make a difference.

"Call if you need anything."

"Dick has your number."

Later, after his world ended again, Bruce went back down to the Cave. Barbara would be by in an hour, and they'd start patrol, and his existence would go on, and that was how things happened.

He opened his files again.

_"Name: Rex Carter Stewart. Species: Human/Thanagarian hybrid (appears human). Sex: Male. Parents: Shayera Hol (Earth-2, deceased), John Stewart (Earth-2, deceased) DOB: Unknown. Current age: Approximately six years old. Powers: Ability to manipulate the minds of others to perceive things that are not real (sensory information to include five human senses). Abilities exhibit same effect on all known alien species resident to Earth. Current Location: Detroit, MI, USA. Additional Notes: Powers previously determined to be hazardous to users; subject currently being trained not to use them. See Batcave File 'Ace' for further information."_

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

"Try again," Shayera coaxed. "Like this." She trilled lightly, then whistled. 

Rex imitated her, but even John could tell it wasn't right. "Like this?" he called from the kitchen, and made his own attempt.

"Stop helping," Shayera said. "Wait. Do you have any peanut butter?" He wiped his hands, opened the cabinet and pulled out the half-empty jar of Skippy. "Thanks. Open wide, kid."

Rex obediently opened his mouth, and Shayera stuck her finger in, putting a dot on the roof of his mouth.

"Now, stick your tongue there and keep it there, and then try." She made the sound again. Rex repeated it. "Much better."

John smiled.

Shayera had decided without prodding that Rex needed to learn how to speak Thanagarian. At least, speak things that were repeatable in polite company. According to her, he could swear like a drunk sailor, and John couldn't tell if she was horrified or amused. She came around two or three times a week, stayed for a couple of hours, and left. This past week, she'd been staying a little later because Rex had discovered gin rummy and was desperate to play with anyone who wasn't John.

They had introduced Rex to Arthur's son, and the two met on an irregular basis to play whatever games they could figure out in common. Otherwise, he was with John, with Shayera, at a Watchtower, or in class at the private school Bruce had found for him. He'd even started to make a few friends, but he understood why they couldn't come over.

Carter had only come back twice so far.

John checked the roast, not wanting either of them to see the way his eyes misted. It had been like seeing a ghost both times: the ghost of a child who had never existed, who was never conceived.

The shrink Bruce originally hired to peer into Robin's head now made regular visits. He'd said all sorts of things that had made J'onn and Bruce nod, about Egos and Superegos. About Ace, too, but John and Shayera had missed her floor show the first time around. John didn't need the explanations. Once Bruce had told him, had shown them the videotaped recordings with just one child, John had known exactly what had happened. Rex had created a best friend who was the same age he'd been when his childhood had been taken away from him, and he'd "fixed" the new child, changing everything he thought was wrong with himself, making what he thought should have been the perfect Rex.

He told them, eventually, that he had created Carter when their Batman sent Rex through the gate, when he was on his own and alone; the child in his mind had been there with him since he'd helplessly watched his "uncle" die. Ace had just helped Rex figure out how to make his friend real.

God alone knew how he had the ability.

Maybe it was the genetic slurpee of John and Shayera's DNA, maybe it was Luthor's raygun, maybe it was the experiments at Cadmus. Perhaps all three had put a hand into the mix. John even suspected residual radiation from the ring might have had an effect. He needed to do more research into the children of other Green Lanterns to be sure. The focus, concentration and detail necessary to convince the world that Carter had been real told John Rex had inherited a lot of traits that made a good Lantern.

Except that he wouldn't join the Corps, and he couldn't be allowed to because it would kill him.

Just as he had lessons with Shayera, Rex had lessons with J'onn on mental discipline. Bruce and Clark both thought he was better off never projecting again. John privately agreed with Diana that it might not be a bad thing to train him in the actual use of his power when he was older and doing the superhero thing full time. Any advantage in a battle, even one he could use only rarely, might be enough to save his life some day.

Shayera said something in the Thanagarian spoken language — John had picked up that Low Speak had more whistles and clicks and hoots, and High Speak had more words that sounded like words — and Rex repeated what she'd said perfectly.

John missed Carter. Intellectually, he knew there was nothing in Carter that did not come from Rex, but part of him would mourn nonetheless. The thought of "bringing him back" now and then, either by accident or design, filled him with a tangle of emotions he was never going to completely unravel.

The timer beeped.

"Dinner's ready," John announced. "Lesson's over for tonight."

Shayera said, "Fine. Rex, practice that trill. Use more peanut butter if you have to."

"Okay."

"You're not staying for dinner?"

"I should get home," she said. They watched each other for a wary moment. Shayera had never asked what had happened with Mari, so he'd reciprocated by not asking her why Hall had stopped coming around. The reasons were probably not so different anyway.

Parallel universes were terrible things. They made people think about destiny and fate and all that other crap John tried to ignore. In the back of his head, he'd wondered since Rex had come through, was there still "supposed" to be a Rex Stewart born in this universe? If he and Shayera ever did get back together, would their offspring be like Rex's twin, just younger, or would they have another child, completely different? Would she even want to try? Would _he_, for that matter?

The moment was broken when Rex banged the cabinets open too loudly, getting the plates out to set the table. Without prompting, he set three places.

"Rex, I'm not staying."

"It's just dinner," he replied. "I heard your tummy rumbling when we were practicing."

"Good ears on that one," said John, going to the 'fridge to retrieve a glass of milk and two bottles of beer. Shayera sighed dramatically as he carved her a slice of roast and set it on her plate.

But she ate every bite.

* * *

The End

* * *


End file.
